


Lysandre's Guide to Taking Care of Your Sick Professor

by doodleweb



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baker!Lysandre, Completed, Cuddling, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Lysandre's a good guy now, M/M, Oblivious Pining, Post-Canon, Sickfic, because I say so, where Lysandre survives and now works as a baker, yes I got that idea from incorrect rainbow rocket quotes in tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodleweb/pseuds/doodleweb
Summary: Professor Sycamore just caught the flu, and he has no idea what to do to get rid of it. Trapped in his work, there seems to be no time for him to catch a single break.It's a blessing that Lysandre is here.
Relationships: Fleur-de-lis | Lysandre/Platane-hakase | Professor Augustine Sycamore
Comments: 33
Kudos: 85





	1. Three Years Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little flashback on Lysandre's part, from Team Flare Boss to baker, in the span of three years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters featured in this work (aside from the minor OCs) and are owned by Nintendo. This fanfiction is of my own work and is not canon to the actual storyline, because Lysandre redemption arcs apparently don't exist, but then again, how the hell do you redeem a genocidal maniac. 
> 
> I also dedicate this work to my sister. Thank you for putting up with me and being my beta reader through this mess. I love you. Give me back my 3DS, dammnit.

It's been three years since the Ultimate Weapon incident.

Until now, Lysandre couldn't believe how lucky it must have been for him to survive after being crushed by the amount of rubble the destruction had caused, and even luckier for a team of paramedics to carry him to a hospital.

His entire life changed after that.

Backlash, curses, and death threats reached its way from the public to the hospital he was recovering at. Nobody came to visit him. Not his family, not his colleagues, not even the admins and scientists from Team Flare. And honestly, why would they? He attempted to destroy the whole world and wasted all their money. He received absolutely no sympathy from anyone.

Except for one man.

Augustine Sycamore.

His entire six months of recovery have been a blur of doctors, check-ups, hospital food, changing bandages all over his body, and staring at a ceiling. They were all dull and come-and-go. All except for Sycamore's visits.

He would come in and talk to him as if he wasn't the man who tried to destroy the entire world. It was a breath of fresh air for once. At first, the professor seemed tense and fiddly, making their conversations stiff and awkward.

However, as time went by, his visits became more frequent and progressively more cheerful. There would always be a smile on Sycamore's face when he enters the room. He would bring Lysandre new research proposals, tales from his workplace, or just the comfortable silence of each others' presence.

"Why do you keep wasting your time making conversation with me, Professor?" Lysandre asked once while Sycamore was staring out the hospital window.

Sycamore looked back at him, confusion evident on his face.

"You're not a waste of time to talk to, Lysandre."

"I tried to murder the entire world with a doomsday weapon and the entire public still thinks I'm a megalomaniac. Doesn't the press question why you're the only person in all of Kalos making time to have contact with me?"

Sycamore's face visibly drops, then a small smile reaches his lips.

"Do you know what I tell the press whenever they ask me about your whole "End-Of-The-World" thing?"

Lysandre shakes his head.

"I gasp and exclaim _'Oh dear! Has he? I should visit him to make sure he's okay! He is my friend after all!_ ' And then scurry away from the cameras and the reporters." 

Sycamore laughed after his dramatic charade of the scenario. Lysandre didn't look amused.

"I can't believe you still have the guts to address me as your friend to the press," he scoffs.

Sycamore sighs and goes to his side on the hospital bed. His gray eyes stare intensely into Lysandre's blue ones.

"I know better than to believe whatever the media or the public has to say about you. It's the same old boring chant that will die down anyway. I know you better than they ever do. You were in the wrong state of mind and you had the tools and resources that made it too easy to achieve your "perfect world". You deserve treatment and reflection, not hate and isolation."

Lysandre feels a warm hand over his arm's cast, thumb caressing the bandage.

With all the sincerity in his heart, Sycamore softly utters, "After all, you are my friend, no?"

A smile tugs on the corners of Lysandre's lips.

Soon enough, a smile was plastered on Lysandre's face every time the professor entered his room. Sycamore even sneaked inside his hospital room at 3 AM just to tell him his newest discovery on Mega Evolutions. The professor was truly the most ridiculous man he has ever met.

Lysandre cherished every single one of Sycamore's meetings. Every topic, every word they shared, every second of silence they spent in each others' company. It's kept him saner than he will ever admit.

During the long period of time, he's gotten to know the professor personally, and he's gotten to open up to him too. By the time Lysandre was up and ready to be released from the chains of his hospital bed, they both knew each other's life stories, family members, sense of humor, hobbies, and the likes.

No longer were they just acquaintances, but actual close friends.

Sometimes, Lysandre wished it was a little more than that. He's _absolutely_ certain he has fallen for the professor. His charming smile, impressive wit, and that stupid stubble on his face are just enough to make Lysandre fall for him hard.

However, he couldn't let his desires ruin an already perfectly good friendship, because Sycamore was the only person he trusted after the Team Flare incident. He makes sure that he buries his feelings for the man six feet underground.

Here he is now, three years later. Running a bakery located in one of the plazas in Lumiouse City.

Ever since he mentioned to Sycamore his passion for baking, the professor's been fretting about an empty spot for sale that was closed down for the longest time in the string of restaurants. Eventually, being the persuasive man Sycamore is, convinced him to buy the lot and make it his own.

It took awhile for the public to warm up to him and his bakery. Some residents even came to the bakery just to investigate whether it was another cover-up to access an ultimate weapon, only to find no clues.

He was given bitter glares and spoken rumors about him behind his back. He seriously thought the entire business was going to go down in the first month of opening. Not even redecorating the interior to be less harsh and less... red as the Lysandre Cafe didn't help either.

But after one such time, a tourist from Sinnoh tried one of his pastries and word of his bakery spread like wildfire.

_"You could see how buttery those croissants are just by looking at them!"_

_"Apparently, there's no second doomsday machine to be found, but have you tried the eclairs there? They're great!"_

_"This is Kalosian baking at it's finest. I highly recommend it."_

_"Wait a second, that guy can bake?!"_

There were finally people coming in and out of his bakery for the food and not to ravage the tables to make sure there aren't any secret hideouts anywhere in his establishment. He added some coffees and teas to the menu just to keep up with the economy and finally hired someone as his assistant to help him around.

People were finally talking to him like he was a normal person. He'd have small talk with his frequent customers with a genuine smile on his face. His assistant treated him with respect, and he treated him the same back. He hasn't worried about Team Flare, the press, or his ruined image in such a long, long time.

There was progress, and Lysandre was happy.

One night, Sycamore came just right in time to order a box of macarons before Lysandre could close up shop. As Lysandre handed the flourished-looking cardboard box to him, Sycamore whispers, "I'm so proud of you." and gives him a gentle smile.

Thousands of replies swirl around his head, nitpicking which one would be the best response. Only one response truly resonated with how he felt,

"I wouldn't have done it without you."

His heart beats uncharacteristically fast as the words slip out of his lips. The Butterfrees in his stomach won't stop fluttering either.

He closes the lights of the bakery, locks up, slips off his baker's apron, and walks side by side with Sycamore under the Kalosian moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, Lysandre was just supposed to be who he actually is in the games and this fic was originally set before the whole genocide plan thing. But then I remembered this post from incorrect-rainbow-rocket-quotes in Tumblr (https://incorrect-rainbow-rocket-quotes.tumblr.com/post/190995672465/tired-lysandres-cafe-was-just-a-front-for-his) and I knew I had to change it. And lemme just say, Baker!Lysandre is my aesthetic.


	2. Guide Tip #1 - Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!! Shout out to the three people who gave this work a kudos! You guys give me life. Love you.

It was the sixth time Sycamore sneezed into a tissue paper and his tenth time getting another sheet from the dispenser on his desk, and frankly, Serena and Calem were getting concerned.

The professor utters another muffled apology into the tissue and absentmindedly throws it in the bin under his desk. He goes back to the Pokedexes right in front of him and scans through the device one more time.

His face lights up when he sees how far Calem has gotten in the Central part of Kalos. He's more than half-way done! Even more than Serena ever had. He looks back up at the trainers to express his joy but saw two worried, judgemental faces instead.

"Um... Is something the matter?"

"Have you ever noticed how red your nose has gotten, Professor? Are you sick?"

Sycamore nearly chokes on his own saliva at Serena's reply. Sick? Why would he be sick? He was in top tier shape just this morning! Well, only if you take out the part where he woke up with a headache and instantly drowned it out with an unhealthy amount of coffee. Aside from that, he feels completely fine!

Sycamore puts on a reassuring smile that meets his eyes, "Oh, don't worry about me, Serena. I could assure you that I am as sharp as a Porygon!" he exclaimed.

The twitch of his hand to scratch the itch in his nose contradicts him.

"More like a Porygon 2," Calem whispers to Serena and snickers. Serena elbows him hard on the stomach, bringing him to a coughing fit. Sycamore stays silent and watches the exchange.

He coughs into his hand to interrupt the silence, "Well, I see that you've done a great job in Mountain Kalos, Serena! Just a dozen more left to go! However, your Coastal dex seems to be lacking. I hope you get to work on it soon," he turns to Calem, "And Calem, I've noticed how much you've improved on Central Kalos! Very good!" Sycamore smiles and hands the Pokedexes back to their respectful owners.

The trio exchanged a bit of chat and soon enough, Calem and Serena were ready to exit the office.

Before they could reach the elevator, the professor blurts out, "Thank you so much for helping out in my research. I truly appreciate it."

The trainers look back at him with a smile. "No problem, Professor!", Serena replied happily. The elevator dings and opens up its doors. Serena heads inside before Calem does.

"By the way, Professor," Calem looks back, "Go get some rest. You look like you're on the edge of the flu." He heads inside the elevator just in time before it closes.

Sycamore's thoughts start to wander to Serena and Calem's concerns. Did he really look sick?

He hurries to his desk and pulls out the drawer from underneath it. He scavenges through all the half-dead pens and research drafts until he finds his mirror.

What was it doing there? Well, how else would Sycamore keep his hair so stunning and stylish? He looks at the reflection of his face in the mirror.

 _I will admit_ , he thinks, _My face has gone a little red._

* * *

Lysandre places two steaming chocolate croissants on a plate and sticks a straw inside the iced mocha right beside it. He brings them to their respective customers, who were a little more special, given that one of them was the region's League Champion.

He delicately placed the orders on their table, "Here are your chocolate croissants, Ms. Serena, and your iced mocha, Mr. Calem."

"Thanks Lysandre!" Calem said, happily grabbing the glass and began sipping away.

Serena takes a bite out of her pastry, eyes widening when she feels the chewy dough melt in her mouth. 

"Wow!" she takes another bite, "You really hit the spot with this one Lysandre!"

"That's the fifth time you told me."

"Well, it's true! Hey Calem, we gotta bring some of these to Professor Sycamore next time we visit the lab. These would instantly make him feel better."

The professor's name rings in Lysandre's ears like a bell. What's going on? Has something happened to him?

"What happened to Professor Sycamore?"

"Oh, we went up to him to get our Pokedexes checked and it was so obvious he had the flu or something. He sneezed like, six times," Calem snickered, "The professor kept denying it even if his face was turning redder by the second!"

Lysandre sighed, obviously not surprised, "That man won't stop working even if a Rhyhorn blocked him from his office, what more of a flu?"

The two trainers shrugged and laughed it off and Lysandre went back behind the counter. When has anything ever stopped the professor from working? Lysandre is certain that it might be the cause of his death someday.

 _Things might get worse if I just leave Sycamore to his own devices,_ he thought to himself, _Might as well take care of him myself._

He headed to the pantry and pulled out a jar of herbs and sugar. On the way to the fridge, he filled a kettle with water and placed it on top of a stove to boil. Lysandre pulls out a glass bottle of Moomoo Milk and sets it aside with the rest of the ingredients.

He was making Sycamore's favorite blend of tea. The same brew every time he visited the Lysandre Café back then. Lysandre wonders why he's still memorized it even after all these years.

Lysandre pours the finished beverage into a cup and snaps on its lid. He unties the knot of his apron and delicately hangs it on the knob of one of the upper cabinets. 

"Benjamin," he called out, "I'm going to give the Pokemon Lab a visit, it might take me awhile. Can you watch over the bakery for me while I'm gone?"

A man just around his early twenties comes out of the break room, already scrambling to put his apron on. 

"Yes sir!", said Benjamin, his assistant. Benjamin follows Lysandre to the front of the counter and watches him leave, a steaming cup of tea in his hand as he sets out into the streets of Lumiouse City. 

* * *

Sycamore was not feeling good. In fact, he's starting to feel worse by the second.

The caffeine from earlier was beginning to die down and his headache was gradually coming back to him in a terrible rhythm of pulses. The only thing distracting him was the research draft he was writing on his laptop, which was getting harder to do as his headache throbbed harder and harder.

He grabs another sheet of tissue paper from the dispenser at the corner of his table to blow another wave of snot into it. He gave a low moan of disgust as he tossed it into the bin underneath him.

Sycamore hovers his hands above the keyboard to continue writing, but the pressure pulsing on his forehead tightens and puts down his pen for a second to recollect himself.

He buried his face in his hands and muffled a groan. When did his face get so warm?

_Ding!_

Sycamore shot up at the familiar ding of the elevator. He doesn't usually get visitors at this time of day, and he certainly isn't in the right state for formal conversation either. He quickly combs a hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to look neat.

"Who is it?" he calls out, nearly groaning as another wave of throbbing pain hits him.

A familiar head of red hair pops up from behind the wall.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Lysandre! No, no. Come in!"

Sycamore gestures for Lysandre to take the seat opposite him and he gladly obliges.

Visits from him were always a treat. There's just something about Lysandre that captures Sycamore's full attention. There was always something he had that excited him whenever he saw his face, or his hair, or those broad shoulders of his–

 _Cut it out, Augustine!_ his inner voice snaps at him, _You can't think about him that way. He's just your friend for goodness sake! And he's right in front of you, so don't make it weird._

The professor sets his laptop aside, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden visit, hm?" he inquired as he propped his chin on his hand.

"I wanted to know how you've been feeling lately, Professor."

"Oh, I'm fine! I've never been better!" Sycamore immediately replied, still in denial. He forces a grin in the hopes that it was enough to convince him. 

Lysandre presses the back of his hand on the professor's forehead. Sycamore couldn't do anything but stay still as he felt Lysandre's fingers planted firmly against his head and watched his face scrunch up at the contact.

_Busted._

He pulls back his hand, "That's quite the fever you have there, Sycamore."

Sycamore slumped in his seat, "Not you too..." the professor moaned.

"You mean Serena and Calem?"

"H-how did you know?"

"They mentioned it while I was serving them their orders at the bakery."

Sycamore looked at him in disbelief, "...And you came all the way here just to slap your hand on my forehead and call it a day?"

Lysandre bit his lip, "Er... Yes, actually. And I also brought you this," he places a paper cup on the table and pushes it towards Sycamore.

"Is this for me?"

Lysandre laughs, "Who else? Now go drink it before it turns cold."

Sycamore brings the small opening of the cup near his nose, smelling its contents. His eyes widen at the familiar scent. "Is this..?"

"Yes, it's your usual blend of tea. You used to order it all the time back then at the Lysandre Café."

"I can't believe you memorized my order!"

Sycamore blows the steam away before taking a sip and exhaling in bliss. He's seriously taking Lysandre for granted. This man has been nothing but generous and he hasn't done anything in return!

A smile grows on Lysandre's face as he watches Sycamore's face after taking a sip from the cup. Before Sycamore could comment, Lysandre raises a hand to interrupt him.

"Don't think I'm giving you that tea as a treat. I'm giving you that so you could take a break after the tremendous amount of work you've been doing. The fever is just going to get worse if you keep it up."

He stands up and tucks his chair back into place, "I might as well get going now. Benjamin's waiting for me at the bakery," Lysandre looks into the Sycamore's eyes, face visible with concern, "Please do rest, Professor. That research isn't going to write itself when you're stuck in bed with a fever."

Sycamore bit the inside of his cheek, considering the advice. Seeing that the professor wasn't going to reply, Lysandre headed towards the elevator.

"Wait!" Sycamore interjected. Lysandre steps back and looks back at him.

Sycamore gives him a small smile, "Thank you for your concern, Lysandre. I really appreciate it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My illogical explanation as to why Lysandre wasn't sent to jail immediately is "I know I tried to destroy the world, but check out these sick croissants I made!" just for the sake of the plot.


	3. Guide Tip #2 - Rest (via Collapsing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Did you know that I had to check the Sycamore Lab on my actual Pokemon X game on my 3DS several times because I have the worst memory in the world? Shocker.

"I wonder how the professor is doing," Benjamin hauls the last sack of flour into the storage room, "I hope that tea you brewed made him feel better."

Lysandre scoffs behind him, "It's been three days since that. The tea won't do anything now. He has to take care of the fever himself."

He takes the keys off the kitchen counter and locks up the storage room.

"I haven't heard from him and he hasn't sent me a message from the Holo Caster since, so I assume he must be resting."

Benjamin smiles, "Good for him, sir!"

A ringtone chime plays from Lysandre's pocket. He pulls out his Holo Caster and sees the screen showing an incoming message from Sycamore.

Lysandre excuses himself and opens up the message. A hologram of a distressed Sina and Dexio appears. Sina's eyes are blown wide while Dexio paces back and forth behind her.

"We're so sorry to call you at this time Mr. Lysandre! We needed to contact someone from the professor's Holo Caster and found you in the contact list," Sina explained, panic lacing her voice, "Long story short, Professor Sycamore just fainted while we were in the middle of work."

"He's still breathing, we swear!" Dexio shouts in the background.

Sina looks back into the Holo Caster, "Is it alright if you come over the lab and help us out? Please reply back when you get this message. Thank you!"

And with that, the hologram disintegrates into thin air.

Lysandre hurriedly shoves off his apron and shuffles to the bakery's exit. Before he reaches for the door's handle, he turns back to Benjamin.

"Could-"

"I'll watch over the bakery while you're gone, sir."

Lysandre nods and rushes out of the bakery.

* * *

Lysandre took a cab on the way to the Pokemon Lab. On the way there, he recorded a quick reply to Sina and Dexio, notifying them of his arrival.

He paced straight into the elevator as soon as he stepped foot inside and punched the button for the third floor.

Lysandre couldn't help but pull on the collar of his button-up shirt, a nervous habit he never seemed to get rid of. Seconds felt like hours in the elevator's cramped space. What had happened to the professor? Did he still have that fever?

When the doors opened, he rushed to the professor's office where he found Sina and Dexio.

The first thing he noticed was Sycamore's lanky form sprawled out on the floor, unconscious in front of his desk and his head laying on Sina's lap.

He noticed Sina desperately combing his hair back while her Glaceon blew cool, icy air onto his face. Dexio, on the other hand, paced back and forth behind the professor's desk and bit the ever-living hell out of his fingernails.

To top it all off, a mug of spilled coffee laid forgotten on the ground, it's contents staining the carpeted floor.

Dexio noticed him, "Mr. Lysandre!"

Lysandre stepped forward towards Sina and Sycamore, "What happened to him?"

"We just asked Professor Sycamore for a document with the data Sina and I were looking for. When he stood up to get it for us, he just collapsed to the floor," Dexio explained. 

Sina's Glaceon continues to cool down Sycamore as she cradles the professor's head in her lap. She looks up to Lysandre, "He even dropped his coffee mug when he collapsed. We'll get it cleaned up."

Lysandre kneels to join the professor's unconscious body. He places his palms flat on Sycamore's face and flinches back at the sudden temperature.

"Dear Arceus, he's burning up!"

Despite the cool wisps of air blowing on his face, his skin stayed hot and feverish to the touch. 

Sina clicks her tongue, "Exactly. He's been running this fever for days yet he hasn't even taken a break!"

"He kept drinking coffee just to keep himself energized," Dexio added woefully.

Lysandre pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a long sigh, "Of course he wouldn't take my advice! Why didn't I see this coming?" he helped himself up again.

Dexio looks at Lysandre with an apologetic expression, eyes blown with desperation, "Mr. Lysandre, the reason why we brought you here is to ask if you could watch over the professor for the next few days. Sina and I have a trip to Alola tomorrow and we need someone to take care of him."

"Why are you asking me of all people to watch over Professor Sycamore?"

"Because he trusts you!" they answered simultaneously.

Lysandre opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to utter a response. They must be mistaken. Surely the professor doesn't trust him _that_ much. At least not to the point where his physical health is at risk.

He thought about it for a bit. The professor is incapable of getting rid of the fever by himself, and if he left him alone in the lab without Sina and Dexio, who knows what will happen to him?

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Thank you so much!" Dexio exhaled in relief, "Sina, give him Professor's key card."

Sina lifts one hand off his head and palms his entire body, searching for something, "Aha! Found it!"

She lifts up the professor's lab coat and fishes the inside of the inner pocket. Sina pulls out a card, "This key card will get you to Professor Sycamore's apartment just above this floor. Just tap it in the elevator's scanner and you're good to go," she hands it to Lysandre.

"Isn't this technically invasion of private property?"

"Well, would you rather he stay here on the floor?" Sina deadpanned.

He shook his head.

"Now get the professor to his apartment and keep an eye on him."

Lysandre crouched to carry the professor's unconscious body bridal style. Despite his thin frame, Sycamore was surprisingly heavy. He walked to the elevator and pressed the button for it to open.

When the doors opened, he stepped inside carefully, making sure that neither Sycamore's head nor legs would hit the elevator's frame. Before it's doors closed, he caught a glimpse of Sina waving goodbye with her Glaceon obediently sitting below her, and Dexio with a thumbs-up and grinning.

Lysandre shifted Sycamore's body in his arms, carefully bringing the professor's torso flush against his and carried him by the back of his thighs. Sycamore's head naturally lolled itself on Lysandre's shoulder, his slow shallow breaths ghosting over his neck.

With their new position, Lysandre easily tapped the key card on the scanner above the elevator panel and rose to Sycamore's apartment.

When he stepped out of the elevator, it occurred to him that this was the first time he saw the professor's apartment.

He looks around the apartment, eyeing the furniture around the room. He passed by the living room, which was average enough. It had a purple sofa, a coffee table which had a tiny ceramic figure of a Gible on it, and a medium-sized television that looked like it hadn't been touched in months from the dust piling on top of it. He could even see a small kitchen from the living room. 

Lysandre went up to the door which he assumed was Sycamore's bedroom, and twisted the knob open, careful not to drop the unconscious body in his arms.

He was not ready for the amount of mess that cluttered Sycamore's bedroom.

Towers of books stood its ground on the feet of his bed. He took a peek at some of the titles, which ranged from books about Mega Evolution to fiction novels. The bed was a mess by itself too, it's purple duvet thrown carelessly across the mattress, and pillows scattered where they aren't supposed to be.

His desk was the star of the show in the entire room. Piles upon piles of paper carelessly scattered across the wooden desk. Some slightly wrinkled while others looked like it came fresh out of the printer. Underneath some leaves of paper was a laptop that looked a couple years outdated.

Lysandre walks up to the professor's bed and grunts as he lays the body on the mattress. He fluffs up the deranged pillows and carefully rests Sycamore's head on top of them. 

_He looks a little too warm to be comfortable_ , Lysandre realized. He eyed the sweat-drenched lab coat hugging Sycamore's form in an uncomfortable manner. Lysandre grabbed the coat by its lapels and shrugged it off his shoulders, slowly working its way through Sycamore's arms, and finally bunching it up and throwing it in the laundry basket nearby.

 _He still looks too warm,_ his inner voice nagged, _How about we unbutton some of those buttons?_

A red tint brushed his cheeks just from visualizing it. He sighed heavily and shook his head. Might as well get it over with.

With a sharp inhale, he reached the first button of the professor's dark blue long-sleeve button-up shirt and unhooked it with trembling fingers. He did the same for the next four buttons, opening it far enough that he gets enough air, but not so far that he would be able to see the rest of his chest (although he was quite close to choosing the latter).

He brushed Sycamore's hair back, revealing his sleeping face beaded with sweat. The professor's face looked stressed even in sleep. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyelids visibly screwed shut, like a child having a terrible nightmare. It saddens Lysandre to see Sycamore, who is usually so starry-eyed and cheerful, to be in such a miserable and disheveled state.

After staring at Sycamore for what seemed like hours, Lysandre pulls away and lets the professor rest.

* * *

As soon as Sycamore woke up, a drilling pain dug into the middle of his forehead and right into his skull. He tries to open his eyes, but the bright artificial lights burn his vision. Sycamore buries his head into a nearby pillow to escape it. 

_Wait– pillow?_

"Oh, the lights must be hurting your eyes. I apologize for that," a deep familiar voice said and the lights turned off, dimming the bedroom.

His eyes adjusted to the familiar silhouette before him, "Lysandre...?" Sycamore mumbled, propping his head on the pillow.

"You are the most ridiculous man I have ever met, Sycamore. You know that, right?"

Sycamore squeezed his eyes shut and desperately rubbed them, hoping it was simply just a mirage. He pleaded, "Please be a hallucination, please be a hallucination." 

The tall figure came closer and towered over him, face morphing into a stern expression. Sycamore gulped. Yep, he is definitely not hallucinating, and that is definitely Lysandre's death glare.

Lysandre crossed his arms, "I am _not_ a hallucination," he huffed.

"Then how'd you get into my apartment?! And how did I get on my bed?"

"You fainted in the middle of work and Sina and Dexio assigned me to take you to your apartment and take care of you."

Sycamore struggles to push himself up to lean against the headboard of his bed and whines, "What do you mean take care of me? I don't need to be taken care of!"

"And that is exactly why I called you ridiculous. You promised me that you'd take a break and rest. Instead, you ended up working with a fever until you collapsed. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?" Lysandre scolded through gritted teeth.

The professor could only look down in shame to avoid Lysandre's burning eyes.

Seeing that he was going nowhere with scolding Sycamore like a child, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Look, it's quite obvious you're totally incapable of healing by yourself, so I'm planning to stay here in your apartment and watch over you until your fever is gone," Lysandre cautioned, "Are you okay with that, Sycamore?"

Sycamore nods.

Lysandre's face softened from a stern look to a concerned one. He sat down beside the professor and softly said, "I'm sorry for scolding you like that. I was just so... Worried," his shoulders slumped, "When I heard that you fainted out of nowhere, I was shocked because I thought you were already out of the fever."

Sycamore hangs his head low in shame again, "I'm sorry I didn't take your advice in the first place. I thought it would go away by itself."

A light-hearted laugh was heard from Lysandre, "That's not how fevers work, Sycamore!"

"Oh, shut up. The last time I had a fever I was in middle school! Could you blame me?"

"And you thought working day and night was going to heal you right back up?"

"What are you talking about? I bring the phrase 'work 'til you drop' a whole new meaning!"

They burst into a fit of giggles.

"In all seriousness, how are you feeling now?"

Sycamore rests his head against the headboard and massages his temples, "I feel absolutely horrible. I've never felt a headache this bad in a long time."

Lysandre scoots closer to Sycamore, kneeling beside him. He gently grabs Sycamore's chin like fragile glass and tilts his head to face him. If it wasn't for the fever, Lysandre would have seen the light blush on his face.

He brings the back of his hand on his forehead, then places his palm on the professor's cheek, his thumb nearly caressing his cheekbones. Sycamore couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"Your fever is still very high. You're going to need lots of rest," Lysandre said, still holding the professor's face. They looked at each other for an awkward second, eyes locked in a curious gaze.

It ended just as quickly as it happened, and Lysandre pulled away and slid off the bed, avoiding Sycamore's eyes. Sycamore watches as Lysandre nervously pulls his collar. The warmth of his hand lingers on his cheek. 

"So... I haven't had lunch yet," Sycamore said as an attempt to break the silence.

"I was going to make us lunch, but your pantry was filled with nothing but cereal and instant noodles," Lysandre pulls his key card out of his pocket, "I'm going to go out and buy some proper ingredients and medicine for you. Is it alright if I borrow your key card?"

Sycamore hums in approval.

Lysandre smiles, relieved, "Good. While I'm gone, you should go take a shower. Warm temperature only," he emphasized. Lysandre walks out of the bedroom and Sycamore hears the elevator's ding, signaling him of his departure.

He drowsily gets up and stumbles to his feet. Sycamore walks up to his mirror on his wall and is greeted by his dreadful reflection. His eyes scan his entire body and–

Sycamore notices, _Why is my shirt unbuttoned?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just establish that this fic took place when Sina and Dexio took a trip to Alola in Pokemon SM/USUM?? Yeah, maybe. Wait a second so does that mean this fic also takes place when Rainbow Rocket took over the Aether Foundation with the Lysandre that ACTUALLY achieved his perfect world–
> 
> I'm gonna put that idea on hold 🙃🙃


	4. Guide Tip #3 - Soup and Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who read this fic before this update, you may have noticed that the placement of chapters have been changed and combined. Don't worry! I didn't remove anything. I'm just kinda dumb for not having any foresight... Oops.

The lukewarm water hits deliciously against Sycamore's skin, the temperature was just enough to relieve him of his splitting headache.

His thoughts wandered as he stood under the shower's warm embrace. 

Lysandre was always a good friend to him. He was one of the only people in his circle of friends he could trust.

Honestly, he wouldn't have anyone else take care of him. Lysandre was brutally honest, extremely courteous, and just a tad bit of a perfectionist, but then again, old habits die hard.

He chuckles at the irony of it all, remembering Lysandre's time at the hospital. Flash forward to three years later and their roles are now reversed. 

He feels guilty for making Lysandre do this for him just because he couldn't take a break from his toxic productivity. What if he hates him for it? Like a weak Pokemon to its own trainer.

Now that's what Sycamore feared the most, losing the friendship he built with Lysandre.

Sycamore snaps himself out of his thoughts and goes back to cleaning himself. He has other things to worry about.

After the shower, he dries himself off with a towel and changes to more loose, comfortable clothes. He throws himself on his bed and burrows himself underneath his blankets.

* * *

Lysandre stopped by his bakery first to notify Benjamin that he would be gone for a few days and that he has to take over while he's gone. 

His assistant's face broke a bit upon hearing the news, but quickly put on a shaky grin and exclaimed,  _ "Leave it to me, sir!"  _ a little too frantically.

He stopped by the grocery store to pick up vegetables, meat, and spices just to fill up the professor's nearly empty refrigerator (save for a half-empty jar of Cheri Berry jam that was sitting in the corner of his fridge and whatever the hell were in those plastic containers).

He nitpicked every single item he laid his hands on, making wild guesses to what Sycamore's pallet would favor more. After paying for the items, he bought some medicine for the fever from the drug store and headed back to the lab.

Lysandre walked into the Pokemon Lab looking like a mother coming home from an intense grocery shopping session. The receptionist at the front gave him a weird look, and Lysandre focused his eyes on the elevator to avoid any other gawking stares that followed him all the way inside the elevator's doors.

He stepped into the apartment and grunted as he placed the bags on the floor beside the couch. Lysandre began searching through the bags for the ingredients for lunch until he remembered who he was going to prepare lunch for in the first place.

He eyed the bedroom door just a few feet away from him. It wouldn't hurt to check up on him, would it? Lysandre walked to the door and pushed it open enough to peek through.

He's blessed with the sight of Sycamore wrapped up in what appears to be a blanket cocoon. His form curled up inside his purple duvet like a tiny sleeping Caterpie, his face peeking from under the blanket and his curly black hair unruly and unkempt in an almost charming way.

Lysandre's heart melts at the scene.

"Oh! I didn't know you were here already," Sycamore exclaims, breaking Lysandre's daze. 

"I just arrived, actually," said Lysandre, "I hope you like soup, I'll be making it for lunch."

"How dare you ask me that! You know full well that I'd gobble up anything that you cook."

He chuckles, "That settles it then. I'll go start and you just stay there, alright?"

Sycamore nods and snuggles even further into his blankets. He looks up again and finds Lysandre still lingering there, leaning against the door frame.

If he wasn't mistaken, he saw Lysandre's face flush before he hurried to the kitchen.

* * *

"Sycamore!" Lysandre called from the other side of the door, "Could you open the door for me? My hands are full."

The professor untangles himself from his mush of blankets and walks to his door to open it. He's greeted by the sight of Lysandre carrying a tray of two bowls of soup with white-hot steam floating in every direction and two spoons.

Sycamore raises a brow, "Aren't we supposed to have lunch on the table?"

"I thought it would be a little more pleasant to eat together on the bed so you could rest while eating," Lysandre started turning back, "Or if you really want to eat at the table, we could–"

Sycamore frantically waves his hands, "No, no!" he interrupts, "I like that idea, it sounds nice." 

He makes his way to his bed and sits on the mattress, propping his back up against the headboard and setting his blanket mush aside. Sycamore pats on the space in front of him, welcoming Lysandre to his bed.

Lysandre brings the tray to the flat of the mattress, careful not to spill any of the bowls' contents and sits cross-legged in front of Sycamore. 

Sycamore's face beams at the bowls of creamy soup in front of him, "Wow! This smells amazing, Lysandre!" he chimed.

He grabbed a spoon and instantly scooped a spoonful of the soup and shoved it into his mouth.

"Wait! It's still-"

"Hot!" The professor gulped the liquid and winces, "I think I just burnt my tongue."

"Why do you always seem to get yourself hurt?"

"Isn't that what you're here for?"

Lysandre gives him a death glare before picking up his own bowl and began sipping away at his soup.

There was a comfortable, almost domestic silence between him and the professor. He would look up from his bowl from time to time to steal glances of the professor, appreciating the way his eyes shine with every bite, and how his form fits so much in his casual clothes, or the locks of curly black hair falling on his face.

Sycamore suddenly looks up, catching Lysandre eyeing him. Lysandre darts his eyes to the side and coughs into the fist of his hand, "By the way, I brought some extra clothes with me so I could sleep here," he says, trying to ease away the awkwardness.

"That's fine by me!" Sycamore sips another spoonful of the soup, "We could definitely share a bed."

Lysandre splutters, nearly spitting the soup in his mouth before gulping it down.

"I am absolutely  _ not _ going to be sharing a bed with you. The couch is enough for me."

"Awww, that's a shame. You look like you'd make a great cuddle buddy," Sycamore coos and goes back to eating his soup, unaware of Lysandre almost choking from hearing one of the most appalling things he has ever heard.

When they finished, Lysandre stacked the bowls on top of each other and set it on top of Sycamore's bedside drawer. He went out of the bedroom for a while before coming back with a spoon and a bottle of medicine syrup in his hand. He sat back down on the bed, poured the syrup on the spoon, and pointed it at Sycamore's face.

"Say ahhhh," Lysandre said in a sing-song tone.

Sycamore chuckled, "I could do this myself, you know? I'm not a child!"

"And risk getting it all over your shirt? Goodness, no."

Sycamore rolled his eyes and eagerly took the spoon in his mouth. The sickly sweet taste of the syrup laced with a hint of bitterness overwhelms his taste buds before swallowing it down in one go. 

Lysandre mumbles something too quiet for him to hear and gets off the bed. He walks to where he left the tray with their bowls to carry them, but a hand catches his arm midway.

Lysandre looks at the owner of the hand grasping him, "Is there something wrong?"

"Could you stay a little longer?" Sycamore asks with big pleading eyes.

"What for?"

"I don't want to be left alone yet."

Finding there was no reason to reject his request (and that he couldn't resist it in the first place), Lysandre sits down beside Sycamore and relaxes himself against the pillows. 

They indulge themselves in their conversation, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. This is the closest Lysandre has been with the professor. Laying down in bed with him feels more intimate than having idle chat in the bakery or his office in the lab.

Somehow, mid-conversation, Sycamore's head migrated on top of Lysandre's lap, a head full of black curly hair laying on his thighs. Lysandre was caught off guard at first, but eventually relaxed and began to play with the tufts of hair. He absentmindedly sunk his hand into Sycamore's curly black hair and started petting him, gently scratching his scalp as he talked. 

Before he could lift his hand to pull away, Sycamore caught it in his own and placed it back down.

"Don't stop..." Sycamore whispered, "Your fingers," he nuzzles Lysandre's thighs and sighs, "They feel quite nice."

Lysandre obliges (with much enthusiasm) and continues to comb his hand through the professor's hair like he was grooming a Pyroar. His heart pounded in his chest and hoped Sycamore wasn't close enough to hear it. 

After a while, the professor's words slowly turned into heavy yawns and his eyelids got heavier by the second.

"I think the medicine is starting to take effect," Lysandre mutters. He carefully lifts the professor's head off his lap and slips off the bed.

The last thing Sycamore saw was Lysandre placing a duvet over him with a warm smile on his face before he fell into a deep slumber.


	5. Guide Tip #4 - Brute Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! And thank you to all the dears who gave this work a kudos!! I love all 8 of you. 
> 
> Okay, enjoy.

Another splitting headache greeted Sycamore the next morning. He raises a hand to his forehead and pulls away when his palm sears at the feverish heat. A throbbing pain made its way to his head and a groan escaped his lips. 

A sudden noise jolts him awake. His eyes followed the clatter of plates echoing from his kitchen, reminding him that he's not alone. 

All at once, the events of yesterday came back to him. The horrible fever, the headache, fainting in the office, Lysandre, Lysandre making him lunch, Lysandre petting his hair, Lysandre softly scraping his fingers against his scalp...

Sycamore shakes himself out of his thoughts. He shouldn't be thinking of that now. He's just overreacting because of how kind Lysandre was being to him! Yes, that must be it.

The professor struggles to sit up and forces himself to bear the wave of nausea. He stumbles to his feet and walks to his bedroom door. Sycamore cracks the door open and catches the savory smell of something delicious cooking across the living room.

He tiptoes to the kitchen where he finds Lysandre's back to him on the stove, cooking something. Sycamore doesn't know what it is, but he's sure it's delicious. He sits himself on the stool and watches Lysandre cook away. 

A strange foreign feeling rouses within him from watching Lysandre cook in his kitchen. Watching him in his tousled red hair in a simple T-shirt wrinkled from sleep while he hastily moves a spatula back and forth on a pan. The feeling swirls inside Sycamore that leaves a light, feathery warmth in his chest.

His train of thought comes to an abrupt crash when Lysandre turns around and shrieks.

Lysandre held his chest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Why didn't you tell me you were up already?"

"Don't blame me, my friend. It's your fault the smell of whatever you are cooking hypnotized me," he said, a playful smirk tugging on his lips.

"I'm glad you're liking it already," Lysandre walks to the counter to get a small plate with mixed spices on it, "How's your fever by the way?"

"I think it's worse than yesterday," Sycamore moans and slumps in his chair.

Lysandre dashes the bright colored spices into a bowl and whips it into the thick cream. He diverts his attention to the pan again. 

"You're going to be absent from work today, right?" he asked.

"Do I have a choice? I'm supposed to cover for Sina and Dexio because they're going to be in Alola, but this fever just chose the perfect time, didn't it?"

"That makes the two of us, then. I had to leave Benjamin at the bakery all by himself, but I'm sure he could handle it alone. All I have to do is hope he doesn't leave the oven open for too long and burn the entire establishment to the ground."

Sycamore heaved a sigh, "I'm sorry for making you do this."

"Don't worry about it. I like spending time with you anyway."

They stayed like that, Lysandre preparing their breakfast while Sycamore watched his every move. The foreign feeling rouses within Sycamore again but he hopelessly tries to ignore it.

"What's that?" Sycamore asked, eyeing the two sandwiches. He watches Lysandre pour a few spoonfuls of the sauce on top of their breakfast as a finishing touch.

Lysandre carried the two plates, "Eggs Benedict. You're going to love it," he smiled and proceeded to the dining table. Sycamore hops off his stool and follows.

* * *

"Can I  _ please _ drink coffee after?"

"No," Lysandre swallows his last bite, "You need to be hydrated to help your body with the fever."

Sycamore takes the glass of water beside his empty plate, "I'm going to get the worst caffeine withdrawal later," he croaks and gulps it down.

He stood up and reached for their plates but Lysandre quickly shot up and took the plates instead.

"No, please. Let me wash the dishes," he said.

"But you just made me the best breakfast I've had in years! Couldn't I at least say thank you by doing the dishes?"

"You could thank me by actually getting better."

Sycamore stubbornly exhaled through his nose and watched as Lysandre tidied up the remainder of their meal. In the middle of cleaning up their dishes, he caught Sycamore still standing there in the corner of his vision, looking at him with a guilt-ridden expression.

Lysandre paused, "What's wrong?" he asked. 

"I'm just feeling a little guilty. You're not obligated to do all these things for me, you know?"

Lysandre sets aside the plates and walks up to Sycamore and lightly touches his forearm, "Hey," he whispers, urging Sycamore to look at him, "I'm not doing this because I'm obligated to, but because I want to."

"But why?"

"Because I care about you, is that so hard to believe?"

Something inside Sycamore jumps. The way Lysandre said it without a hint of hesitation and doubt in his voice stirs something deep inside him. His hands squeeze at his sides, wanting to hold onto something.

A pair of arms wrap his torso in a hug. A mess of black curls cloud his vision and he feels Sycamore nuzzle his shoulder. Lysandre could do nothing but stand there, frozen in shock. Without thinking, he snaked his arms around Sycamore's middle, returning the awkward hug.

The hug tightens as Sycamore mumbles, "Thank you." into Lysandre's shirt.

A light-hearted laugh rumbles in his chest, "Don't get so emotional about it! I own a bakery and wash hundreds of dishes a day. A few more won't hurt me," he pulls away without letting go to give him a reassuring smile, "Now go rest up in your room. Don't worry about me."

Lysandre watches Sycamore retreat to his bedroom before carrying the dishes into the kitchen sink. He turns on the tap and gets to washing the dishes, hoping that the sound of the running water distracts him from the fact he didn't want to let go of Sycamore so soon.

* * *

A satisfied sigh escapes Lysandre after placing the last plate on the dish rack. Now that he's done the dishes, what else could he do? 

Sure, he could make lunch for the both of them again, but that's still hours away. Perhaps he could tidy up the living room since the furniture has gone dusty with time. Could he blame the professor? He's been busy all week, surely he had no time to clean at all. 

Speaking of the professor, he could hear the bedroom door behind him click open followed by shuffling footsteps. Lysandre turns around to see Sycamore heading to the elevator, key card in hand, and in the middle of wearing his lab coat on. 

Lysandre interjects, "I thought you were going to rest."

Sycamore abruptly stops in his tracks, "Well, I was! But then I remembered that I promised Sina and Dexio a week ago that I'd continue our research paper while they were gone," he explained while shrugging his lab coat on.

"And they saw you collapse at work a few days after. Surely they'd understand and let you go if you couldn't do it now."

"Yes, but... I couldn't."

Lysandre sighed and raised a brow, "And when is the deadline of this research paper of yours?"

"...A month from now."

"That's what I thought."

Lysandre walks up to Sycamore and hooks his arms around his shoulders to drag him back into his room. He gently guides Sycamore back to his bed and shrugs his coat off for him. The professor flops down the mattress and sighs.

Sycamore feels the cushion dip, finding Lysandre sitting beside him, "I feel like I have to hold you down just to get you to rest," Lysandre says.

A mischievous glint shines in Sycamore's eyes, "I would like to see you try."

"Seriously? We aren't children, Sycamore. I trust that you'll be able to stay in bed for at least a–"

A rush of wind whips out of nowhere as Sycamore flies past by him to head for the door. Lysandre rolls his eyes and quickly catches Sycamore by the arm before he could even reach the knob. 

He pulls Sycamore towards him, making him stumble back until his back hits his chest. Without missing a beat, Lysandre wraps his arms around Sycamore's waist and hoists him up.

Sycamore shrieks and tries to twist his way out of Lysandre's iron grip. 

"Has your fever turned your mental capacity to that of a ten-year-old?" Lysandre flops Sycamore back down the bed.

The man below him grins and giggles. Sycamore tries to get up again, but Lysandre is quick to catch his wrists and pin them back down above his head, towering over Sycamore's figure. He shifts his knees to either side of the professor's hips before he could even stop himself, locking his body with his.

He could feel a long-forgotten flicker of fire dancing in his stomach that he's too familiar with. All those feelings he tried to bury so long ago are suddenly trying to crawl its way out in the most agonizing way possible. Three years of burying his feelings are coming apart in just two days. Lysandre couldn't deny it anymore. He's  _ still _ in love with him. 

Sycamore sets his very being alight, and he doesn't know it.

Sycamore budges against Lysandre's hold, "So… When are you gonna let me go?"

Lysandre comes back to reality and scowls at him, "When you finally decide to get some rest."

"Then we're gonna have to stay in this position until the end of time."

“You’re ridiculous,” Lysandre bursts into laughter along with Sycamore until a ringtone rang somewhere across the room.

"Oh, that must be my Holo Caster. Could you get it for me? It's somewhere beside my laptop."

Lysandre lets go of Sycamore and slides off the bed to retrieve the Holo Caster and hands it to him. He sits beside Sycamore as he boots it up and beams, "It's a Holo Clip from Sina and Dexio!"

He excitedly selects the message and a hologram of the professor's lab assistants materialize in a light blue glow in front of them, both lacking in their usual lab attire and carrying bags on their shoulders.

Sina grins and waves, "Hi Professor! I hope you're feeling better today!"

"We just arrived at the airport, but our flight is still hours away," Dexio says, "We hope Mr. Lysandre is taking very good care of you."

Sycamore smirks and elbows Lysandre. Lysandre lightly nudges him back.

After a bit of chatter, the two lab assistants exchange their goodbyes. Dexio exclaims and quickly adds, "And don't forget to feed the starters' lunch today! They'll hate you if you forget."

The Holo Clip ends and Sycamore carelessly tosses the Holo Caster somewhere on the bed. He pinches the bridge of his nose, "Now that's a task I couldn't delay..." Sycamore groans.

"I'll help you with it then," Lysandre offered.

The professor laughs, "You're just asking for trouble."

"They're just baby Pokemon, how hard could it be?"

Sycamore lies back down and covers himself with his blanket. He smirks at Lysandre, "Just you wait, my friend. Just you wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, I've never had an eggs Benedict before, but damn they look good. Also, what kind of eggs do people in the Pokemon universe use? Since almost all Pokemon can breed and lay eggs, does that mean humans use those big green eggs for consumption? Or do the bird-based Pokemon lay normal eggs for humans instead. Or maybe–


	6. Guide Tip #5 - Become the Professor Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister once said that Lysandre helping Sycamore with his job is community service for the shit he has done in the past, and I wouldn't stop laughing at it. Give me back my 3DS.

"Lysandre, where did you put the Leppa berries?"

"Oh, I was just about to put them in with the Pecha berries mix."

"But those are for the Fennekins!"

"So?"

"They hate Leppa berries! I tried feeding them some before and one of them threw it up on my lab coat."

"I didn't realize how picky your starters were with their food."

"Hah! You don't even know the half of it."

Lysandre and Sycamore continued to bicker over the bowls, ingredients, and assortment of berries scattered atop the kitchen counter like an old married couple. Before they started, Lysandre thought it would be a piece of cake to prepare pokepuffs for the starters' lunch. After all, he was no stranger to baking them for his own Pokemon.

The professor, on the other hand, proved him wrong. Very, very wrong. It wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Sycamore knew every specific berry combination and palette of all his starters like the back of his hand, nitpicking every little detail and measurement to make sure every pokepuff would fit their tastes. It made Lysandre realize how much he underestimated the professor's knowledge of baking, or at least when it comes to baking pokepuffs.

Even when they entered the elevator to head down the first floor, Sycamore continued to overwhelm him with a tsunami of information.

"–so if you find that the Chespins aren't eating the pokepuffs yet, just leave them be or else you'll ruin their appetite and get grumpy. But don't worry about the Froakies! They usually gobble them all up before you–"

Lysandre is going to be honest, he didn't catch everything Sycamore said.

After exiting the elevator, Sycamore led him to the back of the lab, where an entire garden habitat for Pokemon settled there. Trees, ponds, and fields of grass sprang life into the garden enclosed in a glass dome just as tall as the lab.

Flocks of Chespins, Froakies, and Fennekins were too busy resting and playing with each other to notice them. Lysandre couldn't even imagine a place like this existing in such an urban place as Lumiose City!

Sycamore handed him the bowls of pokepuffs, "Are you sure you want to do this alone? They could get aggressive, you know. And I _really_ mean aggressive."

"Of course I do. Don't worry, I won't take long," Lysandre reassured.

The professor slid the door open for him and Lysandre stepped into the grassy floor. The Pokemon froze solid and gaped at the unexpected company.

Lysandre took step after cautious step, playing an intense staring contest with the Pokemon carefully watching him. He gently placed down the bowl of pokepuffs in the middle of the garden and walked away.

A low growl suddenly resonated from one of the Fennekins. He looked back at all the Pokemon, catching a hostile glint in all of their small, beady eyes.

More of them began to growl and hiss at him, wary of his intrusion. Slowly, more Froakies, Fennekins, and Chespins surrounded him, looking at him like he was their next meal.

Lysandre was trapped. He snapped his head at Sycamore as a last desperate attempt to escape but saw the same fearful look in the professor's eyes.

A vine from a Chespin slithered around his ankle, wrapping him in a tight grip. Lysandre stole a glimpse of a furious Chespin before a harsh tug of the tendril pulled him off his balance. 

Lysandre fell on his back with a loud painful thump. He grunted as he tried to get up from the drop, but looked up and saw groups of Pokemon ganging on him at an alarming pace. Lysandre scrambled back but bumped into the same angry mob behind him.

Sycamore, watching from behind, grimaced as a furious looking Fennekin jumped on him and tried to claw at his face. What followed was a flurry of thorny vines, water guns, and sharp claws rolled into one chaotic pile.

It wasn't like Lysandre was going to die from the assault. Those Water Guns will barely do anything but ruin his mane of hair.

He should have known better than to let him go alone, he knew how his starters' would act! And what is he doing about it? Just sitting here and watching his friend get mauled by a bunch of baby Pokemon?

A burst of ember shot through the air, just inches away from Lysandre's face. Lysandre tried to shield his face with his arm, but another vine grabbed it and pulled it away. Sycamore has decided. He couldn't bear to see Lysandre get hurt, more or less burnt to a crisp.

He slammed the sliding door open and marched towards the pile.

"That's enough!"

Sycamore's voice boomed across the dome. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

The Pokemon raised their eyes to Sycamore's stern face. Lysandre, although buried by the hordes of Pokemon, did the same.

He placed his hands on his hips furiously, "Lysandre did not come all this way and baked those pokepuffs for you just so he could get hurt! You should all be ashamed of yourselves!"

The Pokemon gaped at Sycamore, and then at Lysandre, who was already untangling the already loose vines off his arm and wiping the water off his face.

Sycamore clapped his hands twice, "Off you go! Eat your lunch!"

The Pokemon scrambled away and bumped into each other as they hurried to the bowls of pokepuffs waiting for them. Lysandre sat himself up with a pained groan and looked down at the reddening marks on his arms. 

Sycamore hastily knelt beside him, "Are you alright?" he asked.

A chuckle broke through Lysandre, "Your starters are truly something, aren't they?"

"They just don't take kindly to strangers," Sycamore shifted to his front and started to palm his body for injuries. Lysandre didn't mind.

"Did you get hurt anywhere?"

"Just my wrists. Those Chespins got a good grip on– _Ah!_ "

Sycamore stopped as soon as he heard Lysandre hiss in pain. He hovered his hand over the spot where he pressed his abdomen. Sycamore lifted the hem of the shirt and gasped at the sight of several bright red scratches decorating Lysandre's pale skin.

"You're bleeding!"

Lysandre looked down to get a good look at his injuries, "They're just scratches. I didn't even notice them," he dismissed.

The professor dashed back into the lab and came back with a first aid kit. Lysandre could see the distress in Sycamore's face as he fumbles through the first aid kit's contents. He pours disinfectant onto a cotton ball and dabbed the cotton on the scratches. Lysandre tries not to hiss in pain for him.

"I am so sorry this happened to you," Sycamore apologized, hands trembling as he opened a package of bandages, "I should have at least come with you. And now you're wet, and wounded, and bleeding."

"Don't blame yourself. It was my decision to go alone anyway, even when you warned me." Lysandre held in a pained groan as Sycamore planted bandages on the scratches.

"Then I should be taken responsible for not telling you to tie your hair back so you don't look as threatening to them with your spiky mane and all," Sycamore laughs, "Now that I think about it, I think you'll look quite handsome with your hair tied back."

"Are you telling me that I'm not handsome now?"

Sycamore plops beside him on the grass and grins, "I never said anything about that."

Lysandre blushes and looks away bashfully.

They watch the starters' peacefully nibble on their pokepuffs. The Pokemon almost looked like they didn't nearly burn Lysandre just moments ago. 

One of the Fennekins walked up to Lysandre, a pokepuff shell caught between its teeth.

Lysandre freezes and narrows his eyes at the Fennekin. He leans to Sycamore and whispers, "What does it want from me?"

The Fennekin plops the half-eaten pokepuff on the ground and nudges it towards Lysandre with its nose. 

"Awww!" the professor coos, "It's trying to apologize to you!"

A pair of puppy dog eyes look up at Lysandre, seeking forgiveness. He picks up the pokepuff, "I'm sorry, but I don't eat these."

The Fennekin blinked at him before deflating in disappointment.

The professor clicked his tongue, "Now that's no good. Come here." 

Sycamore shifts for a bit to kneel behind him. He takes the pokepuff shell and places it on Lysandre's palm. He cups Lysandre's hand and guides it to the Fennekin, offering the pokepuff to it instead.

The Fennekin hesitates before taking a tiny bite off it, and another, and another. Once Lysandre got the hang of it, Sycamore let go of him, letting him feed the Pokemon by himself.

Cute isn't exactly the word Sycamore would use to describe Lysandre. He would usually use words like bold, passionate, a blazing flame, maybe a little intimidating. But at this moment, with Lysandre letting the little Fennekin nibble on the pokepuff on his hand, the only word Sycamore could describe this moment was… _Cute._

Lysandre notices the professor's eyes watching him intently, "What are you looking at?"

Sycamore blushes and waves a dismissive hand, "Oh, it's nothing!"

It definitely wasn't.

* * *

After some fussing about Lysandre's scratches and Sycamore obsessively asking him _Are you sure your scars are okay?_ every second to the point it was going to drive Lysandre mad, it was only a matter of time until they had their dinner and prepared themselves for bed.

"Are you really gonna spend another night on the couch again?" Sycamore asked, tucking himself under his blanket. He could still taste the bitter aftermath of the medicine in his mouth.

Lysandre screws the medicine bottle's cap closed, "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"It's just the fact that not only did you do my work for me today, but I also got you injured. And I'm still going to let you sleep on that raggedy couch? What kind of person am I?!"

"A sick one if you keep worrying about me rather than your own well-being. It's just a couch. I can deal with it. Now go get some sleep."

Lysandre puts away the medicine bottle and gets up to switch off the bedside lamp, dimming the room of its warm glow.

Was Sycamore really just going to let him go that easily? After all that he's done?

He couldn't stop the nagging guilt pounding in his chest. Lysandre deserved better, but Sycamore wasn't exactly in the right shape to offer anything, and if he did, Lysandre would reject it anyway out of pity.

Unless he could convince him by...

"I'm cold," Sycamore said quickly before Lysandre could get to the door.

Lysandre looks back at him, "What?"

"I said that I'm cold. This blanket... isn't enough for me."

"Then I'll go get you some more-"

"N-no! I need something warmer than blankets... Something like..." Sycamore winced in embarrassment, "A human."

Lysandre stared at him, clearly dumbfounded.

"...A human," he repeated.

"Yes! And since you're a human and you're here right now, it only makes sense to..."

"Share the bed?"

Sycamore nodded sheepishly, and Lysandre stared at him for a long second.

"...No."

 _Seriously?! After all that?_ Sycamore screamed internally. He rolled on his side and huffed, "Fine, but if my fever gets worse by tomorrow, don't blame me."

He waits for Lysandre’s muffled footsteps to walk away and leave him to his own devices once again.

But it never comes. 

Instead, he heard soft footsteps make their way to his bed. He smirked when he felt his blankets give way for his new companion. Sycamore turned back to see Lysandre laying on the other end of the bed.

Lysandre rests his head on his side and notices the victorious smirk on Sycamore's face.

"Don't get cocky now. I'm only doing this so you won't get cold."

The empty space between them said otherwise. Lysandre stayed at the other end of the mattress, nowhere near him at all. Sycamore was afraid that if he moved any farther, he would fall off the bed altogether.

"I'm going to stay cold if you don't come any closer than that. Come on, scooch!" 

Sycamore eagerly pulled Lysandre closer to the center, meeting him there. He tucked himself under Lysandre's chin while Lysandre awkwardly embraced Sycamore's middle. They shifted a little until they were pressed flush against each other. 

Sycamore sighed blissfully, "That's better..."

Lysandre was afraid to burst out of his skin at any moment. He's never been this close to him before. Sharing a bed, no less! It makes Lysandre's heart both soar from the contact yet ache at the fact that... They're just friends. No matter how close he holds Sycamore, or how much effort he puts into taking care of him, or how much Sycamore tends to his wounds, he's still just a friend.

And that's all he ever will be.

He sighs heavily and clenches his eyes shut, hoping that the sweet embrace of sleep would overtake him. Dark swirling shapes mold before his eyelids, luring him closer to sleep. Closer, and closer, and closer...

Until the warm body in his hands started to speak, saying, "How come you call me by my last name?"

Lysandre snaps his eyes open, "What?" he groans, stirring himself awake again.

"How come I call you by your first name but you still call me by my last name? It's always Sycamore this, Sycamore that, sometimes it's even Professor! But it's never my first name. Aren't we past that boundary of formalities? I mean, we're sharing a bed for goodness sake!"

"Yes, I know. It's because my last name is a mouthful and so is my first. Now be quiet and go back to sleep."

"I won't until you start calling me by my first name," Sycamore teased. 

Lysandre could practically hear the infuriating smirk from his voice. He held in a sigh and gave in. 

"Fine, _Augustine_ ," he said, emphasizing the first name. The syllables rolled out of his tongue somewhere on the brink of unfamiliarity and light astonishment.

"Again," Sycamore said, nearly a whisper.

"Augustine..."

An unexpected warmth settled in Sycamore's stomach again. He couldn't comprehend why hearing Lysandre call him by his first name sounded so... Intimate. It's such a tiny detail yet why does it affect him so?

"Augustine," Lysandre calls softly, nudging him lightly with his chin.

Sycamore looks up at him, "Yes?"

A sleepy smile makes its way to Lysandre's face, "Go to sleep," he whispers and closes his eyes.

Sycamore goes back to nuzzling Lysandre's shoulder again and closes his eyes too.

He wouldn't admit it, but he wouldn't mind if Lysandre slept with him again, whether or not he was feeling cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But for real though, why does Sycamore call him Lysandre and not Fleur-de-lis? There are some questions that NEED answers.


	7. Guide Tip #6 - Become the Professor Yourself (...Again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you're easily grossed out by descriptions of vomiting, there's a part where I had to write about it though it is VERY VERY tiny.
> 
> And NO, I will not admit that I searched up "how to write vomiting" just for that one paragraph. NO, I did not have a moment of reflection after doing said research.

Lysandre's been awake for approximately three seconds before a mass of black curls crowded his face. He tries to move away but a pair of lanky arms around him pull him closer like a vise grip. Lysandre looks down and sees Sycamore fast asleep and nuzzled against his shoulder. He smiles fondly at the sight. 

Even if half his face was nuzzled against his shoulder, he noticed how Sycamore looked totally rested this time. His face was so lax and peaceful compared to when Lysandre first brought him to the apartment.

No matter how much he still wanted to stay with Sycamore a little longer, their breakfast won't cook itself. He tries to wiggle out of Sycamore's tight embrace but fails. Lysandre had to wake him up just to untangle himself from him. Sycamore stirs awake when Lysandre finally gets out of bed. 

"I'm just going to cook breakfast. Go back to sleep," he says softly. Sycamore hums and closes his eyes once more.

Lysandre finished cooking breakfast when Sycamore finally woke up and greeted him. While eating, Lysandre asked how he was feeling. Sycamore replied with an enthusiastic _I think I'm feeling better!_

Until after breakfast, Lysandre noticed Sycamore gradually getting quieter and quieter in the middle of their conversation, cutting his sentences short. Lysandre knew there was something wrong because Sycamore loved talking too much.

Sycamore excused himself and rushed to the bathroom, stumbling along the way. By the time Lysandre caught up with him, he saw the bathroom door slam close.

He placed his ear on the flat of the door to make sure he was okay. Muffled sounds of Sycamore dry-heaving and coughing roughly reached his ears. A sense of worry spiked through him. He fetched a glass of water and waited in front of the bathroom door.

In a few moments, a disheveled Sycamore stepped out of the bathroom. He opened his mouth to say something before gagging and rushing back into the bathroom to take care of it again.

Lysandre sighed. _So much for "feeling better"._

Sycamore came out of the bathroom again, looking more miserable than before with his mussed hair and his ghastly pale complexion. He sluggishly took the glass of water and drank from it.

"I think I just threw up my entire breakfast," Sycamore croaked, "What a shame, it was delicious too."

Lysandre took the glass from him and eyed him with concern, "I knew that you had the flu, but I didn't know it was a stomach flu."

"Things just keep getting better for me, don't they?" Sycamore said and dragged himself back to the bathroom. 

* * *

Lysandre waited on the couch, picking on the bandages on his stomach to distract himself while Sycamore took a long, warm, and very needed shower. It must have served its purpose well because he doesn't notice Sycamore standing at the foot of the bedroom door.

A sharp gasp elicits from Sycamore. Lysandre looks up to see the professor fresh out of the shower, curls dampened and a towel wrapped around his hips.

Sycamore snaps his fingers, "I forgot about that! We need to change the bandages. Give me a second," he said and rushed into his bedroom.

 _It looks like he's back to his usual peppy self,_ Lysandre thought.

Sycamore comes back in a new set of casual clothes and his hair back to its usual bouncy nature. He joins Lysandre on the couch and lifts his shirt just enough to reveal the crusty bandages. Lysandre waits for him to peel it off but the professor stays there, staring blankly at his stomach.

"...Bandages," Sycamore blurts out of nowhere.

"Yes... I know," Lysandre says slowly like he was talking to a child, "We need them. Where do you keep them?"

Sycamore's eyes creep up until he looks at Lysandre in the eye, "That's the problem. I don't keep any bandages here."

Lysandre fights the urge to facepalm, "Not only do you not have decent food in your pantry, but you don't even keep a pack of bandages around?!"

"It's not like I needed it! I barely get hurt around here!"

"Your hand nearly got chopped off by a Gible a year ago and it took a month to heal!"

"First of all, the Gible just punctured its teeth into my palm. And second, it took a week for it to disappear," Sycamore sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "We won't go anywhere if we just bicker around. Let's just use the lab's first aid kit downstairs."

Lysandre got up and brushed his shirt back down, "Fine, but remind me to buy you basic first aid kit supplies when I go grocery shopping again."

Sycamore chuckled, "Alright, but don't go and buy an entire hospital for me."

* * *

Lysandre joined Sycamore to the third floor of the lab where his office was. Sycamore grabbed the tiny first aid kit and handed it to him. Before they could head back, the elevator doors opened. The pair went to look who came in and saw one of Sycamore's many lab assistants.

The lab assistant jumped, "Oh! Professor, I didn't know you were here."

"I was just here to grab my first aid kit. What brings you here?"

"I was just double-checking if you were here because there's a trainer who wants a starter."

"Really? Who is–"

Lysandre interrupts and quickly steps in front of Sycamore. He broadens his shoulders and glares at the lab assistant, "Augus– I mean, Professor Sycamore is absent from his duties today and is not fit to do any of them. I would assume you know that, considering he is your boss and all. I'm hoping you could understand that."

The lab assistant freezes and opens his mouth to speak, but ends up stammering instead. Sycamore pulls Lysandre back by the shoulder and brings himself in again.

"Lysandre doesn't get a say in my job," he says to his lab assistant, "Now, who's the trainer?"

"It's Shauna's little brother. They're both waiting at the reception room for you."

Sycamore claps his hands in delight, " _Magnifique!_ You may tell them to come meet me here."

The lab assistant scutters away to the elevator and Lysandre waits until the doors close for him to face Sycamore, "I thought you were going to be absent today," he murmured.

"I am! But you know I can't say no to Shauna. And I wouldn't want to spoil a trainer's first time getting a Pokemon!"

The elevator doors opened once again to reveal Shauna and a little boy who shared the same features as her. Shauna was the first one to come out, already tackling the professor into a hug. Sycamore hugs her back with the same enthusiasm.

"Professor!" Shauna cried happily, "It's been a while since we last saw each other."

Sycamore patted her back before pulling away, smiling, "It has, hasn't it? Sorry I'm not wearing my usual attire. I'm supposed to be absent today."

Upon pulling away, Shauna's eyes catch Lysandre's blue ones. Her grin falters for a second before she puts on a polite smile. She courteously nods her head to him, "Lysandre," she acknowledges, her tone drastically different from her usual cheery self.

Unlike Serena and Calem, Shauna hasn't exactly warmed up to Lysandre. After all, their confrontation from years ago still convinces her that he's a dangerous man. It's hard to forgive, and it's even harder to forget. Can he really blame her?

Lysandre returns the nod, "It's good to see you again Ms. Shauna."

Shauna guides the little boy to her front and rests her hands on his puny shoulders, "This is my little brother Shaun," she introduces, "He just turned eleven and can't wait to become a Pokemon trainer!"

"Is that so? Well, you came to the right place! It's nice to see more budding trainers like you, Shaun," Sycamore extends his hand for Shaun to shake.

Shaun grins and returns the handshake with high energy, slightly startling the professor, "I'm gonna be the next League Champion!" he beamed.

"I'm sure you will! Now come, follow me."

They followed Sycamore to his desk where he pulled a suitcase from and placed it on top. He clicked the case open to reveal three Pokeballs nestled inside of a velvet lining. Shaun leaned in closer and marveled at the spheres. 

"These three are the Kalos starters. All you have t-to do is... Um... Y-you just need to… Oh dear," Sycamore trails off, feeling another unpleasant wave of nausea wash through him.

Lysandre watches as Sycamore coughs to hide his gagging. Without hesitation, he swooped to Sycamore's side and urged him to sit on his desk's chair.

He leans down to Sycamore's level, "I'll take it from here, just sit down and rest," he whispers and stands back up again. He stares at Shaun's confused expression before clearing his throat to break the awkward tension.

 _Wait a damn second, what the hell am I supposed to do? I don't know any of this stuff_ , Lysandre cursed in his head, unaware of a dumbfounded Shaun staring at him weirdly, _This should be easy. It's just the Kalos Pokemon starters. You've had experience with them before! Like being torn apart to shreds by the little devils while trying to feed them... Yes... That counts as experience..._

He gave each Pokeball a light tap, releasing a red beam. The beams shaped and solidified into all three starters. A Chespin, Froakie and Fennekin stood proudly, waiting for their potential future trainer.

"You need to choose one of the three starters. Chespin the grass-type, Froakie the water-type, and Fennekin the fire-type. Any choice will do."

"Then can I choose all of them?"

"What? No! Of course you can't! You can only get one."

Shauna ruffled the little boy's hair, "Just like me Shaun! I only got one Pokemon from Professor Sycamore when I was your age too."

"Well... If I can only choose one, then I should choose the strongest one!" A peculiar light glimmers in Shaun's eyes. He taps his finger on his chin as he carefully examines each starter, "Then I'll choose... You!" Shaun points at Lysandre.

Lysandre almost chokes on his saliva.

"M-me?!"

Shaun giggles, "Yeah! So I could scare away all the trainers that come across me and I won't have to battle them anymore! Especially with that suuuuper scary hair! I'd win the league in no time!"

Sycamore does a poor job of trying to hide his snickers behind Lysandre's back. Even Shauna's trying to hide a grin behind her hand. Lysandre, on the other hand, feels like dying right then and there.

After laughing, Sycamore stands up from his chair and walks to Lysandre's side. He wraps an arm around Lysandre's waist, pulling him closer, "Sorry to disappoint you, Shaun, but I've already caught Lysandre, so you can't have him."

Lysandre blushes and looks away. He could tell by Sycamore's tone that he's having fun playing along with Shaun's cruel little game.

It would have been funny to him too if he didn't feel like jumping off a cliff.

* * *

It took a while until Shaun finally decided on a Froakie. Sycamore insisted on escorting Shauna and her little brother to the lobby to say goodbye while Lysandre waited for him in his office.

Sycamore planted his hands on his hips, "You take good care of that Froakie, alright Shaun?"

Shaun flashes a toothy grin as he hugs the Pokeball to his chest, "Don't worry Professor Sycamore! BloodSlayer is gonna become the best Greninja in the world!"

Sycamore is still a little wary of the questionable nickname Shaun gave to that sweet little Froakie, but he'll let it slide.

The little boy scurries off to the gates of the lab while Shauna stays with the professor a little longer. She looks at him with soft eyes and smiles, "I'm so glad you finally found someone to settle with, Professor."

"Found... Someone?" Sycamore tilts his head.

"Yeah! Isn't Lysandre your..?"

"Oh!" Sycamore frantically waves his hands, "No, no! We're not like that. Lysandre and I are just friends."

Shauna shakes her head and apologizes, "Sorry Professor! It's just that you guys were really touchy-feely with each other and everything."

"W-were we?" The professor's cheeks flushed. 

"Yeah! I'm actually surprised you guys aren't dating."

"What do you mean ‘surprised’?!"

Shauna rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand, "Oh, forget about it. I'm just glad you're happy, Professor. I hope you get better soon!"

They hugged one more time before exchanging goodbyes. He watches Shauna grab her little brother's hand and walk out the gate together.

 _Lysandre and me, dating?_ he ponders, _It actually doesn't sound too bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was SO hesitant to write the part with Shauna and her brother because it was never in my chapter outline in the first place, but my sister encouraged me to write it anyway and I'm so happy she did because I LOVED writing this chapter. Why? Because I got to diss Lysandre's hair, of course! Where the hell does his hair end and where does his jacket start? We will never know. 
> 
> And that one anecdote about Sycamore being bit by a Gible was based on an actual thing that happened in the anime for some reason. I don't... I don't really understand but that was a thing.


	8. Guide Tip #7 - Relax and Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There's gonna be very few parts where I describe a bloody injury. It's not graphic, but I'm just warning you in case you're queasy about blood.

"Stop laughing, Augustine."

Another fit of giggles escaped from Sycamore's mouth, "I'm not laughing!"

"Is this about what that ruthless barbarian said about my hair?"

"Ruthless barbarian? He's just a kid! And you have to admit, he got you good."

"No, he did not! My hair is _absolutely_ fine!"

"Mhmm. Sure... Now stay still or else this bandage won't cover the wound properly."

Sycamore patches the bandage on Lysandre's faded scratches and smooths it out. He brushed Lysandre's shirt back down and leaned back against the couch with a relieved sigh. 

"So... How's the flu?" Lysandre asked, settling on the opposite side of the couch.

"Well, I don't feel like vomiting anymore," Sycamore squeezes his shoulders, trying to subside the aching creeping up his back, "But I'm starting to get some bad muscle pain right now and I'm way too exhausted to sleep it off."

A heavy silence floated between them. Sycamore scanned the living room, desperately looking for something to converse about. His eyes settled on his stack of DVDs and an idea popped in his head.

"Movie?" he asked.

Lysandre nodded, "Movie," he got up and approached the pile of DVD boxes. He picked up the stack and filed through each of them, "What do you want to watch?"

"Let's watch Tears In The Rain! That's my favorite film!"

Lysandre thumbed through the DVD covers until he found it. He pulled out the slim box from the pile and scanned it, "Ah, isn't this Diantha's debut film?"

Sycamore hummed cheerfully.

As Lysandre popped open the box cover, Sycamore's eyes wandered and examined the rest of the living room. He noticed it looked more... Tidy. He leaned over his coffee table to swipe a finger against the glass and his fingertip came out clean. 

Lysandre turned on the television and walked back to the couch.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Why is my living room so clean? I haven't cleaned it in weeks!"

"I took the liberty to clean it myself on my first day here before I slept on the couch. You ought to take care of it more, it's a nice living room."

Sycamore gasped and picked up the tiny ceramic figure of a Gible resting on the table, "Even Delilah is all cleaned up!" he squealed.

"...You named your ceramic Gible Delilah?"

"Yes! I got her at a souvenir shop in Sinnoh when Diantha and I took a trip there."

The movie started to play and Sycamore put Delilah back down.

Lysandre shifted his attention to the screen, "Speaking of Diantha..."

The screen displayed an opening scene of Diantha's character making her way through a packed train station. Sycamore tucked himself comfortably on his couch and watched silently.

Somehow during the screening, the pair slowly gravitated toward each other. Sycamore only noticed when Lysandre's shoulder touched his. His face burns up at the contact but ultimately ignores it. It must be the fever.

An exceptionally emotional scene comes up with Diantha's character shouting at her love interest, scolding him. Sycamore could practically feel her energy radiating through the screen. A nostalgic feeling washes over him as a childhood memory resurfaces.

"Did you know Diantha wanted to be a nurse when we were kids?"

Lysandre's eyes widened, disbelieving, "You were childhood friends?"

"Yes. And very close ones at that! She found a passion for acting by the time we were teenagers and begged her parents day and night to allow her to go to an acting school, and they eventually did."

Sycamore took a glance at Diantha on the screen longingly.

"It took her eleven auditions just to get into this film."

Lysandre's eyes widened once more, "Eleven?!"

"And now she's the most famous movie star in all of Kalos! She's both gorgeous and passionate about her art and I'm so proud of her!" Sycamore sighed dreamily, "And I can't believe she still kept me as her closest friend this whole time."

Lysandre hummed in acknowledgment, but it sounded more at the edge of a grumble. Sycamore peered at him through the corners of his eye and saw him looking everywhere but the movie.

"...Are you okay Lysandre?"

A _Yeah, I'm fine_ came from the man but ultimately came out too muttered to understand.

Sycamore shrank back to his side and continued to watch. The movie's sounds blared in the background as he shifted uncomfortably on his spot. Something was going on with Lysandre. He could feel it.

"Wait a second..." he turned to Lysandre, "Are you jealous?"

Sycamore saw him tense up and look away.

He saw Lysandre's fists clench on his sides, "I'm not jealous..."

Sycamore gave out a light-hearted laugh, "I can have more than one close friend, you know?" he brings his hand on top of Lysandre's and gives it a gentle squeeze, releasing the tension from his fist, "There's no need for you to be jealous."

He turned his attention back to the movie and continued watching.

Or at least, he could have if he didn't take his hand away from Lysandre's. He doesn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to take it off. It felt too right. He wanted this moment to last.

He was about to lift his hand when he felt Lysandre intertwine their fingers. Sycamore's heart leapt in his chest. He went along with it and tightened his hold. He could even feel the callus of Lysandre's hand, no doubt from years of running a bakery.

There was a comforting homey aroma coming from him, almost like walking into a coffee shop or breathing in the scent of fresh linen. It was intoxicating, and he wanted more.

"Is this okay?" Lysandre asked sheepishly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Sycamore faced him and forced a smile on his face to hide his nervousness, "I don't mind at all..."

With the movie now long forgotten, he looked at Lysandre for a beat longer, and a beat longer than that. Lysandre stared back at him, looking like he's waiting for something to happen. Sycamore stole a quick glance at Lysander's lips and unconsciously licked his own.

If he leaned in a little closer... He could almost–

His Holo Caster's notification tone rang from his pocket, disrupting the odd tension. Sycamore groaned and rubbed the area between his eyes before digging into his pocket for his Holo Caster with his free hand. He caught a glimpse of Sina's name on the screen and looked back at Lysandre.

"It's from Sina and Dexio."

"It's probably important. You should go check it," Lysandre said. He untangled his fingers from Sycamore's and pulled away.

Sycamore wanted to reach for him again, to keep the moment for a little longer but it was already too late. He opened the message and a hologram of his lab assistants materialized before him.

The Holo Clip went by as expected. A greeting, an update, and a chipper _Get well soon, Professor!_ Sina even made fun of the fact that Dexio lost to an eleven-year-old trainer's Rowlett in a battle.

The entire time they were narrating their adventures, Sycamore couldn't ignore the lingering warmth left from Lysandre's hand. It seared his palm and reached its way between his fingers. It made him want more, like an itch begging to be scratched.

The hologram disintegrates and he looks back at Lysandre, who had already shrunk back to his corner of the couch.

"I think I should start cooking dinner now," he said.

Sycamore nodded, "I suppose so."

Lysandre turned off the television and headed towards the kitchen. Sycamore followed him and sat down on the stool.

"What are you making?" he asked as he watched Lysandre bring out vegetables and other ingredients.

"Just a simple sandwich."

Sycamore joins him on the kitchen counter.

"Can I help you with it?"

"Sure. Just don't throw up on the ingredients."

Sycamore laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder. Lysandre placed a cutting board and a knife in front of him and handed him two bright red tomatoes the size of his fists.

"You go start slicing the tomatoes and I'll start toasting the bread," he instructed.

Sycamore nodded and placed the tomato down on the cutting board. He grabbed the knife loosely in his hand and positioned it parallel to its stem.

He pushed down but found that the tomato hadn't been cut fully, so he pushed down even harder. He tightened his grip on the knife's handle, squashing rather than slicing it. The blade went through with an unkempt fashion, leaving a dull, uneven slice on the ripe tomato.

Sycamore looked down at the watery, seedy mess he made and looked up, finding Lysandre staring at him, dumbfounded.

"Please don't tell me you don't know how to properly cut vegetables."

"I… Actually don't."

"But it's basic cooking knowledge!"

"I don't think pouring hot water on ramen noodles can teach a lot of basic cooking knowledge in general."

Lysandre crossed his arms, "So you're telling me that you, Professor Augustine Sycamore, the lead professor of the most prestigious lab in all of Kalos–" he drew in a breath, "–don't know how to properly cut vegetables?"

"Pretty much."

Lysandre wasted no time stealing the knife and positioning himself in front of the cutting board with the miserable tomato on top of it. He places his knife behind the dully sliced edge of the tomato and begins slicing it with expertise.

"The trick here is to glide the knife until it's fully split," he explained as he sliced the vegetable, "Don't just push it down or else you'll end up squashing the flesh."

Perfectly sliced tomatoes laid in front of him once he was finished. Lysandre handed the knife back to Sycamore, who held it with a nervous grip.

"Still need help?"

Sycamore nodded.

He felt a sudden warmth on his back and saw Lysandre standing right behind him. His back was pressed flush against Lysandre's chest, and he could feel his breath ghost across his neck that made his knees go weak.

Lysandre extended his arms to Sycamore's hands, blanketing his thin frame. He gently held the back of his hands, one with the knife, and the other on the tomato. Lysandre guided his movements like a puppeteer pulling a string while his voice instructed him from behind.

It was a blessing Sycamore got to focus.

Lysandre slowly pulled away his right hand guiding the knife once he felt Sycamore slicing confidently. However, the other hand holding the tomato stayed with Sycamore. In all honesty, Sycamore didn't know why he couldn't just let go of his other hand, but he isn't complaining.

Sycamore made another successful slice, "Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of it!"

"Thank Arceus, I should teach you more."

"You should!"

Just when he was nearing the end of the remaining tomato, his Holo Caster rang out its ringtone all the way from the living room. Sycamore quickly whipped his head towards the sound while continuing his slicing motions.

"Augustine wait!–"

Sycamore, still looking away, glided his knife across anyway. He felt something firmer under the blade rather than the tomato's soft flesh.

Lysandre flinched and retracted his left hand harshly. Sycamore didn't understand until he saw a line of crimson blood trickle down the back of his hand.

"Oh my- Lysandre, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed.

Lysandre inhaled sharply through gritted teeth, "It's fine, it's fine. Let's just get this patched up before it gets infected."

Sycamore hurried the injured man onto the couch and grabbed the first aid kit. He fumbled through its contents before finding some cotton balls and disinfectant.

As he dabbed a cotton ball to soak up the remaining blood, he got to examine the cut itself. An angry red line made its way from the pointer finger's knuckle to the base of the thumb. It was deep enough to bleed out, but not too deep to be fatal.

He finally bandaged the cut and wrapped a handkerchief tightly around Lysandre's hand to keep it from peeling away.

Lysandre examined his newly bandaged hand, "So much for getting the hang of it, huh?" he chuckled a bit, but it quickly died down when he saw Sycamore's guilt-ridden face.

"Don't worry about the cut. It will heal soon enough," Lysandre gets up, "Leave the dinner to me, alright?"

Sycamore nods silently and Lysandre flashes a small smile before returning to the kitchen counter. 

Guilt continued to bubble inside him as he watched Lysandre make the rest of their dinner. Even while eating, he was so distracted by the bandage on Lysandre's palm that he couldn't strike up a conversation. Lysandre stayed just as silent.

The dreadful feeling followed him to bed where he was getting ready to go to sleep. Thankfully, Lysandre agreed to sleep with him for a second time, but instead of feeling giddiness and excitement, he felt remorse and pity.

Lysandre was the first one to fall asleep. Sycamore kept wide awake and stared at the ceiling as a flurry of thoughts came crashing down on him.

 _This is it. This is what I feared for the most,_ he thought, _Becoming a burden to him._

He went over all the events that have happened. Lysandre didn't have to be here in the first place, then the scratches from his starter Pokemon, then the time he had to take over for him to do his work twice, and finally the large cut on his hand.

Even if he tried, Sycamore couldn't deny the fact that everything bad that has happened to Lysandre was because of him. Lysandre is hurt because of _him._

Sycamore sighed wearily and turned to his side. He needed to rest. He doesn't want to hurt Lysandre anymore. He needs to fix this tomorrow.

He doesn't know how, but he's damn well going to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spotted that Blade Runner reference, you are now legally allowed to sit next to me on the train.
> 
> Also!!! This work just got past !!10!! kudos!! Thank you guys!! And is it a coincidence I also got sick while updating this fanfic? What the actual fu--


	9. Guide Tip #8 - Crack and Crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sycamore goes Syca-mode, or whatever you kids say these days idk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading this chapter a little earlier than usual because the internet's gonna go slow down soon and I'm just not vibing with that.

Sycamore was missing. 

Lysandre woke up this morning expecting a tangle of limbs, a head of black curls on his face, and a warm body in his arms. But when he reached his arms out to hold the sleeping form beside him, he was met with the cold, empty air instead. 

At first, he thought that maybe Sycamore must have woken up before him and was already waiting in the living room, but the living room was just as empty when he entered it. There was no one on the couch, or on the table, or on the kitchen counter.

He scrambled to check every room the apartment had. Hell, he even checked inside the _closet_ for goodness sake! Yet he couldn't find Sycamore anywhere.

A surge of panic coursed through him. How could he disappear so suddenly? Lysandre made his way to the elevator doors and pushed the down button on the panel.

With a ding, the elevator finally cracked open. Lysandre wasted no time to slip inside and go down to the first floor's lobby. Seconds felt like hours within the metal walls, and he fiddled with his shirt's collar as he came down.

Lysandre stepped inside the lobby and looked around. Sycamore was still nowhere to be seen. He caught a glimpse of the reception desk and strode his way towards it.

"Good Morning ma'am. Do you happen to know where Professor Sycamore is?" he asked, leaning over the desk.

The reception lady eyed him for a second before she replied, "He just checked in this morning. He's at his office on the third floor."

Lysandre muttered a quick thank you and rushed back to the elevator, leaving the reception lady aghast.

He was brought to the third floor, which upon entering, had the faintest aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Lysandre made his way to the office's entrance and peeked through it.

Sycamore was in his usual professor attire; a white lab coat rolled up to his elbows and his dark blue button-up shirt. He was on his desk, browsing his laptop with tired, sunken eyes, drinking a cup of steaming coffee on one hand and holding a piece of paper on the other.

Lysandre steps into the office, "Augustine?"

The professor squeaked behind his coffee mug, "Lysandre! I didn't expect to see you here!"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm working, of course!"

Sycamore types a few more words on his laptop. The blaring screen burns his eyes and makes his head throb like hell, but he won't admit that.

Lysandre tilted his head, "But... Aren't you still sick?"

"Well, I woke up this morning feeling better so I decided to finally go to work! It feels great! So you could pick up your things from my apartment and leave. I won’t be needing you anymore," he forces a smile and goes back to typing.

Lysandre was having none of it. Sycamore was a disheveled mess. He was jittery from the caffeine yet so obviously stressed and tired. 

He walked to the back of Sycamore's desk and placed his hand on his forehead, giving away his unmistakable feverish skin.

Sycamore slapped the hand away and scowled at him, "Could you cut it out?!"

"Your temperature is too high for you to work. Come on, let's go back to your apartment and-"

"Didn't you hear me? I said I'm fine! Now please, leave me alone," he snapped. 

Lysandre was taken aback, but pursued anyway, "You are anything but fine right now. You haven't even had breakfast yet and you're already off to work in the middle of a fever. What's gotten into you?"

"Me? What's gotten into _you?!_ "

Sycamore slams his laptop closed, startling Lysandre. His chair screeches in agony as he gets up from his seat. He stiffens his form when he faces him, face contorting with frustration.

"All I have ever done since you got here was hurt you, so stop trying to be a martyr for once! I don't need your pity."

"I don't care if you hurt me. It's alright–"

"No, it's not! I'm a burden, Lysandre! Can't you see? Or are you too stupid to understand?!"

He stomps towards Lysandre and jabs an irate finger to his chest.

"I bet you already thought I was the second you brought me to my apartment! So go ahead! Tell me how much of a burden I am–"

" _AUGUSTINE!_ "

Lysandre desperately grabs Sycamore's shoulders.

"How many times do I have to tell you this?! I don't think about you like that! I _care_ about you, Augustine. At least get that through your thick skull!"

"Then why do you care about me so much, huh?!"

The question makes Lysandre's blood grow cold. His grip on Sycamore loosens.

"I-I don't know. But still, I–"

"You don't know..?" Sycamore repeated, his patience teetering on the edge.

"I don't know..." Lysandre shakes his head and moans, "Oh, Augustine... You wouldn't understand."

 _I can't tell you_ , The words almost escape Lysandre's lips, _You'll hate me if I do._

"Seriously?! What is it this time?" Sycamore spat, "Can't trust me to take care of a stupid fever by myself and now you think I can't handle the truth?! What am I? A child?!"

"No! Like what I said, you really wouldn't understand–"

Sycamore stomps closer to Lysandre, his face inches away from his. 

"Yes, I could!"

"You can't!"

"Then _FUCKING_ try me, Lysandre!"

Lysandre's throat went dry, and the world was spinning too fast. He didn't know what to do, or what to say, and Sycamore was _so_ close. He was so dangerously close–

He didn't know what brought him to do it, but the next thing he knew, he crashed his lips against Sycamore's and squeezed his eyes shut.

Lysandre dared to tilt his head to deepen the kiss, he could even taste a hint of coffee on Sycamore's lips. It wasn't romantic at all. It was chaste, messy, and felt _absolutely_ fucking wonderful. He pulled away from the kiss just as quickly as he started it.

Sycamore, on the other hand, didn't look as enthusiastic. A shocked expression was sketched across his face, his mouth slightly agape. Lysandre looked at his eyes and found horrified confusion.

That's when Lysandre realized he made a huge mistake.

Sycamore didn't feel the same.

He's gone too far.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he muttered and hastily slipped away from his office.

Sycamore stayed glued to the floor. He felt lightheaded, from the migraine or the kiss, he does not know. He shakes himself out of his trance and sprints for Lysandre. He's not done with this conversation. Not yet.

"Lysandre!" he called out as he ran out of his office. He caught a glimpse of the elevator doors closing in on Lysandre, his head hanging low in shame.

Sycamore tore for the elevator, but it was too late. He slammed his fist against the down button and waited on jittery feet. The elevator took too long to get up, and it took even longer on the trip to the first floor. The walls felt like a metal cage about to crush him. 

Lysandre kissed him. Lysandre _kissed_ him!

And it felt _good._

And now, when he finally felt that he understood, Lysandre was slipping away from his grasp. If it only wasn't for this damn slow elevator.

The metal doors finally opened and Sycamore ran right through it before it could even fully open. He looked around for any signs of Lysandre, and there were none.

Lysandre was gone.

Defeated and exhausted, Sycamore flung himself onto the nearest couch in the lobby. His migraine increased ten-fold and he held his throbbing head between his hands. He was so lost, and his head ached like hell. 

He knew he couldn't go back to work on the state he was in now, physically and emotionally. He felt for the inside pockets of his lab coat until he found his Holo Caster and pulled it out.

He could still feel tingles dance along his lips as he scanned through his Holo Caster contacts, the scene playing in his head over and over again like a broken record. After recording a miserable-looking Holo Clip and sending it, he shoves his Holo Caster somewhere in his lab coat and buries his head in his hands. 

Sycamore doesn’t realize how long he’s been musing over the memory until he heard a pair of heels clicking towards him. 

"I received your Holo Clip, Professor. I hope you called me for a good reason," a woman’s voice said. 

He raised his head weakly to see a young woman in a thick beige trench coat that covered her physique and a pair of stylish sunglasses standing in front of him. She removed her sunglasses, and Sycamore smiled.

"Diantha..."

She smiled back.

"Augustine..." her smile fell, "You look terrible. What happened to you?"

A humorless chuckle broke from his mouth, "Too much, actually."

"Care to explain?" she asked as Sycamore stood up from the couch.

"Gladly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE DIANTHA AKA MY QUEEN AND NOW SHES FINALLY HEEEEERE–


	10. Guide Tip #9 -  Diantha. Just Diantha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID Y'ALL SEE THE NEW POKEMON MV???? IT SLAPS. WHENEVER MY EYES LAID UPON A GEN 6 CHARACTER I CRIED TEARS OF JOY EVEN IF LYSANDRE AND SYCAMORE HAD LIKE 2 SECONDS OF SCREENTIME.
> 
> Here's the MV link for those who haven't seen it yet!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BoZ0Zwab6Oc

Sycamore was a mess. When he and Diantha both headed to his apartment for a private talk, he realized how cold and lonely the apartment felt without Lysandre in it. 

There was no Lysandre on the couch picking on his bandages, no Lysandre in the kitchen cooking him the best breakfast in the world, and there was definitely no Lysandre waiting for him in the bedroom. 

It all felt wrong without him. 

He ripped off his work clothes for something looser. Sycamore cornered himself to one side of the sofa and narrated everything that's happened since he got sick while Diantha sat opposite of him, listening to every little detail. It was some sort of faux therapy session they unintentionally arranged.

"–and he's been nothing but sweet and caring, but all I ever gave back were a bunch of injuries and involuntary professor duties!"

"So from what I'm getting here," Diantha began, "was that you got ill, became utterly incapable of taking care of yourself, made Lysandre your nanny for a couple of days, and you got guilty because you kept hurting him." 

Sycamore curled in even more to his side of the couch and hugged his pillow tighter, "Don't say it like that! It's embarrassing!"

"It's still the truth, sweetheart," Diantha smirked, "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"Well, no. I called you because we had a fight about it a while ago and it didn't go so well."

Diantha leaned in closer.

"I got up early to go back to work to prove that I didn't need him anymore. Lysandre still found me and tried to bring me back to my apartment, but I was too stubborn to let him and got mad at him because I couldn't understand why he still cared for me after all that I've done.

"I said something about how I was becoming a burden and he tried to reason with me, but I didn't listen. Then we started yelling at each other, and the next thing I knew he–" Sycamore's breath hitched, "He kissed me."

Diantha's eyes widened, but stayed silent and nodded for Sycamore to continue.

"I was too shocked to respond and he thought I didn't like it. I saw the look on his face. He looked so terrified, Diantha... He looked so hurt. And then he just ran away. That's when I called you," He took in a shaky breath, "I just... I just don't want to hurt him anymore..."

Diantha hummed and took in everything Sycamore told her. He could tell the gears inside her head were turning, especially when she was in deep thought.

She turned to Sycamore, "I don't understand. Why do you feel so guilty in the first place? He's just your friend. Mistakes were made and his scars would heal anyway. It shouldn't be a big deal."

Sycamore shook his head, "It may not be a big deal to you, but it is to me."

He looked at her, hoping that's all the explanation she needed, but saw a raised eyebrow instead. Sycamore sighed and let his mind drift away to the past.

"It all started after Lysandre activated the Ultimate Weapon three years ago."

* * *

Sycamore remembers that day very well. Maybe too well.

He could still remember gulping for air after running a marathon to Geosenge Town.

He could still remember the agonizing heat beating down on him.

He could still remember his lab coat plastered to his back with sticky sweat.

And he could still remember the panic he felt when he realized Lysandre was still down there under all that rubble.

He and Lysandre weren't exactly close back then. They were friends, yes, but they were friends in a business sense. Lysandre was the head of Lysandre Labs and Sycamore was the head of the Sycamore Pokemon Lab in Lumiouse City. It was natural for them to meet and eventually become acquainted with each other.

Now that Sycamore thinks about it, it's hard to imagine Lysandre in his usual Team Flare get-up from years ago. Lysandre back then spoke about his ideals of a perfect world with an unwavering passion which Sycamore admired.

He used to listen to him when he visited the Lysandre Café and become hopeful that someone as passionate as he was willing to change the world for the common good. But for some reason, he felt as if Lysandre was hiding something behind that stoic mask.

And he definitely was. When Lysandre's Holo Clip reached every citizen in Kalos, he didn't even think twice to run out of his lab and make a break for Geosenge.

When he got there, he was relieved to see all of his trainers safe and unharmed. He asked where Lysandre was and Shauna replied with a broken voice, "He's down there. We had to leave before he activated the weapon."

Sycamore followed her eyes to the gigantic pit of broken rock and rubble. His lips and fingers grew cold. Lysandre...? Down there? They just left him to be buried there, whether he was dead or alive?!

He couldn't bear the thought of leaving a human being there to die. He tore straight to the pit where emergency workers, Machamps, Gurdurrs, and Chanseys were already working on the casualties and huge pieces of debris.

"Lysandre is still down there! We have to save him!" he shouted amidst the smoke and dust. 

A mix of angry replies answered back at him.

_"Save him? He tried to kill us all!"_

_"He deserves it! Keep him down there!"_

_"What's the professor doing here?"_

_"There's no point! He's probably dead by now!"_

One of the paramedics approached him and touched his shoulder, "Sir, please step away from the area. It's not-"

"Don't touch me!" Sycamore jerked his shoulder away, "I'm not moving from this spot until I see his body!"

His little temper tantrum somehow got some of the workers and Pokemon to start looking through the rubble for Lysandre and even shared the burden with them.

Sycamore's hands were chalked with powdered debris, his arms burned from every stone he carried aside, and his white lab coat had turned to a murky brown with dust. All he needed was to see a glimpse of Lysandre's face, or his suit, or his hand, or a fingernail, even a fucking tuft of his red hair would be enough–

"I found him!" one of the workers shouted.

He watched as they brought Lysandre, broken and bruised from the rubble, into an ambulance.

Sycamore slept soundly that night with the news that Lysandre survived.

The public, however, did not share his relief. Many citizens were angry that he got rescued and hospitalized in the first place. Everyone wanted Lysandre dead and gone, and for very good reason.

Sycamore understood them. Lysandre was a very dangerous man. He was powerful, had influence, and he was extremely wealthy. But now after the incident, he wouldn't be left with any of those qualities. He was left with a nagging feeling that he couldn't avoid it.

He felt that Lysandre deserved a second chance.

Even Sycamore himself couldn't believe what he was thinking. Giving an attempted mass murderer a second chance? It was unacceptable! But he couldn't help it. Lysandre needed to recover and reflect on his mistakes! Not to suffocate from hate and isolation!

But he knew that no one would agree with him, he knew that no one would even dare to treat the world's latest genocidal maniac like a normal person.

So he did it himself.

It started with short meetings with Lysandre in the hospital disguised as updates on his latest research on Mega Evolution. Lysandre didn't look happy to see him. In fact, he didn't look happy in general. Sure, he was less manic than he used to be, but he turned so cold and distant.

So he kept trying.

He prolonged his meetings with Lysandre. After he talked about his research, he would try to strike up a casual conversation with him. Every meeting brought in a new research update, a funny story that happened at work, or any topic that the professor could think of on the top of his head.

Most of them were met with a cold glare and a harsh turn of the cheek, or if Sycamore was lucky, some straight-forward reaction from the man himself. It wasn't much, but it was progress nonetheless.

So he _still_ kept trying.

"Why do you keep wasting your time making conversation with me, Professor?" Lysandre asked once. 

Lysandre didn't know, and still doesn't, but that question broke Sycamore's heart. Did Lysandre not think he deserved to be treated like a normal person?

Sycamore admitted to him the reason he stayed by his side amidst the public's opinions of him, why he thought he deserved a second chance and why he believed in him.

He finished his explanation with an "After all, you are my friend, no?"

And for the first time, he saw Lysandre smile.

It took every molecule in Sycamore's body not to squeal in joy right then and there. Lysandre smiled! It was the biggest sign of progress he's ever seen.

After that, Lysandre seemed more open and welcoming to him than ever before. It was a breath of fresh air to finally have real conversations with him. He was so much more than what people thought him as. 

Beneath the cold and calculating surface, Lysandre was warm and witty. He would carry conversations with him all day and magically keep them interesting. And Sycamore loved every second of it. Loved seeing this side of Lysandre, loved seeing him grow and branch out from the man he was before. 

They've gotten so close that Sycamore isn't even sure if it's possible to pull them apart. Many people have tried before, warning him that Lysandre was still a dangerous man, but he couldn't bring himself to listen, he knew Lysandre better than they did.

"Did you know that I considered taking up baking as a career choice?" Lysandre said one time during one of his visits. 

"You bake?!"

"I do. My father didn't approve of it and made me take up engineering instead, but I still kept it as a hobby."

"I bet your baking tastes so much better than whatever they serve you here."

Lysandre laughed, "As a matter of fact, they do. I know you won't believe me, but I'm quite sure I make the loveliest croissants in all of Lumiouse City."

Sycamore playfully shoved him, "Don't inflate your ego! Last time that happened, it didn't end so well!"

Ever since Lysandre mentioned his love for baking, he kept pestering him about a spot in Lumiouse City where he could set up a bakery. And magically, Lysandre gave up and actually went and did it. This was it! It was a big step in helping Lysandre grow into the community, and Sycamore couldn't be happier. 

However, things weren't going as well as he was hoping.

One night, a week after Lysandre opened the bakery, Sycamore gave it a visit before Lysandre could close up. 

When Lysandre handed him the paper bag with his order in it, he told Sycamore, "That's the only sale I made this week."

"But I saw people come in here on my way to lunch today! Surely you sold something!"

"Well, yes. People did come to the bakery, but not for the food," Lysandre sighed, "They only came here to play detective and make sure it wasn't another cover-up to some genocide plan. Even the local police came here and questioned me."

Lysandre drew in a shaky breath, "I saw the way they looked at me," his voice cracked, "They looked so angry, and I was so scared... They reminded me of who I was, what I've done."

His breath hitched.

"They looked at me like I was a _monster."_

Pearls of tears started to form on the corner of his eyes. 

A tear rolled down his cheek, "And the worst part is that they're right."

Sycamore's heart sank when more tears rolled down Lysandre's face and plunged even more so when he tried to hide it from him. He couldn't help but make his way behind the counter and tackle Lysandre into a hug.

Lysandre doubled over him and sobbed shakily into his shoulder, "I-I don't... I..." More tears spilled out of his eyes, "I wish I was left to die after activating the Ultimate Weapon."

The professor's stomach dropped and held him even tighter, fearing that if he let go, Lysandre would completely crumble apart. He couldn't bear to hear words like that falling out of his mouth. Lysandre didn't deserve to feel this way.

"That's not true. Please, listen to me," Sycamore whispered desperately, "You are _not_ a monster, Lysandre. You are not the same man you were before. You've changed so much, and you've done so well… Please don't cry anymore… Please..."

Sycamore stayed still, caressing Lysandre's back until the tears turned to shaky breaths and hiccups. Once he calmed down, Sycamore took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped Lysandre's tears away until he was dry. 

Lysandre looked at him with defeated eyes, "I'm thinking of closing down next month."

"But you just started! You can't give up now!"

"I know. But if the bakery keeps getting this kind of attention, it won't last long on its own."

Sycamore tried to refute but knew that what Lysandre said was true. But it was too early, and Sycamore isn't going to give up on this opportunity just yet.

"Just give it one more chance? Please?"

Lysandre gave him a calculating look and sighed in defeat, "Fine. But if I couldn't earn enough money to pay the lot by next month, then I'll have to find another way."

Sycamore smiled fondly and held his hand, "And I'll be with you when you do."

Lysandre returned the smile, and Sycamore felt something click inside him. It was a spark. A flicker of warmth that made a promise to never leave Lysandre's side, no matter whatever the hell life threw at them. 

And, Sycamore realizes, that even after three long years, that flicker never seemed to extinguish its flame. 

* * *

"That's why I felt so guilty. I couldn't bear to see him in pain, especially when I'm the bringer of it. He's been through enough already."

Diantha's eyes softened. She nodded and got back to thinking again.

"Augustine, I don't think you should be asking why Lysandre cares so much about you. I think you should be asking why you care so much about him."

A broken laugh erupted from Sycamore, startling her, "Isn't it obvious? It's because I–"

His breath hitched.

_Oh._

All at once, everything finally clicked together, like the last piece to a jigsaw puzzle.

Sycamore sat up slowly, letting the realization sink in. He opened his mouth but he couldn’t utter any words. How has he not noticed for _three long years_?

He looks back at Diantha with a newly-found light in his eyes.

"I love him, Diantha."

A crazed grin made his way to his face. 

"I'm in love with Lysandre."

Diantha rubs her temple and groans, "Oh, thank Arceus, you finally figured it out-"

"And he returns my feelings. He kissed me, Diantha! He kissed me! I returned his feelings before I even knew it!"

Sycamore was about to absolutely lose it. He hid his laughter behind a closed fist. The situation was hilarious! All of this would have been avoided if he just found out in the extremely short span of _three fucking years._

"I need to go find him. I need to apologize. I need to–"

"Augustine!" Diantha grabbed the sides of his head, forcing him to look at her, "I know you just found out that you're in love with your best friend, but that doesn't give you an excuse to run to the streets of Lumiouse City to find him in the middle of a fever like a madman!"

Sycamore nodded obediently and she let him go.

"Your fever is still high and you need plenty of rest. So please, do me a favor and rest."

She gets up off the couch and approaches the elevator to press the down button.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

Diantha faced him and smiled mischievously, "Secret! But trust me, it'll help you."

Before Sycamore could interrogate any further, the elevator's ding chimed.

* * *

The sweet scent of freshly baked bread and coffee beans greeted Diantha as she entered the bakery.

The place was busy, a few tables were full of people chatting and eating while a young man at the front was taking orders from behind the counter.

Diantha joined the line and waited until it was her turn.

The young man flashed a bright smile at her, "Good morning ma'am! May I take your order?"

Diantha, with the skill of a hundred acting rehearsals, whipped off her sunglasses with a flick of her wrist, "No thank you. May I speak to your manager?"

The young man perked up, "Oh! Ms. Diantha! I'm sure Mr. Lysandre would have loved to see you but… Um... He's... Not around right now."

"Benjamin!" a baritone voice called out from behind the pantry doors.

Lysandre burst out the doors with a tray of steaming freshly baked muffins.

"This might be our last batch this afternoon. We ran out of baking soda. So just wait here for me while I go fetch some from the–"

He paused when he saw Diantha's piercing scowl from the other side of the counter and shoved the steaming tray to Benjamin before storming back in the kitchen.

Diantha made her way behind the counter to follow him, Benjamin tried to hold her off, but she easily powered through him. 

Benjamin looks apologetically at Lysandre from the other side of the door, "I'msosorrysirItoldhernoIswearpleasedon'tfireme!–"

Diantha slams the door shut with her heel, ending Benjamin's skittering apology.

Lysandre sighed in defeat and languidly propped himself on a stool, "There's no avoiding you, is there?"

"No, there certainly isn't," she said, "I wanted to talk about–"

"–Augustine. I know," Lysandre muttered softly.

Diantha nodded and sat on the stool in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I please take at least 2 minutes of your time to talk about this thing I see nobody talking about??
> 
> So one of the things from the actual Pokemon X and Y games that inspired this chapter was Sycamore's dialogue when he talks to you in Couriway Town after you defeat Team Flare and Lysandre aka practically killing him/burying him alive for eternity.
> 
> He apologizes on behalf of the events Lysandre caused because he never knew Lysandre's true intent and expected him to do better and basically low-key blames himself because he never talked to him about it. And honestly??? It's heartbreaking to hear.
> 
> This chapter is kind of my interpretation of what Sycamore could have done when he said:
> 
> "But what I really wanted was for him to put his ego aside and lead everything to greater heights. I never had this discussion with him, though. So I'm partially responsible for this." 
> 
> Where Sycamore DOES get a second chance and ACTUALLY does it. Maybe not so much about making a "perfect" world anymore, but more of being a decent person and not turning back into a genocidal maniac.
> 
> Sycamore also says "And by stopping Team Flare, you also saved Lysandre." and it physically hurts my heart like KSHXKAJSKSKXJX. 
> 
> I actually wonder what YOU guys think of this piece of dialogue because I know that a lot of people base Perfectworldshipping on that part where Sycamore compliments Lysandre in his cafe when you meet them, which is really cute and all but I don't see the dialogue from Couriway Town being talked about anywhere. And it's a shame because it's honestly so heartbreaking and SO substantial to their friendship in the game. 
> 
> Thank you for listening to my TedTalk.


	11. Guide Tip #10 - ???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it another coincidence that I accidentally cut my hand with a glass shard and now I have to wrap it with a handkerchief to keep the bandage in place EXACTLY like Lysandre's cut????? Is this what I get for hurting Lysandre so badly in this fanfic? Where's MY hot French Pokemon professor to heal it for me?? Oh well, I hope this chapter fixes things.

_ "He's devastated, you know." _

Diantha told him.

_ "And it's because he doesn't want to see you get hurt, especially if it's because of him. I know you might disagree, but it's true. He told me." _

Before she left, she looked at him dead in the eye and said,

_ "His happiness is mine, Lysandre. And I'm certain it's the same for you too. So please, do me a favor and talk to him. You can't keep hiding forever." _

Time flew by too fast for Lysandre. The agonizing thoughts ran through his head the whole day. He didn't know if he could bear to face Sycamore, still ashamed of what he did.

It was already past eight in the evening when Benjamin (who he assured was not going to get fired) finished his shift and left the bakery. Lysandre stayed a little longer to clean the pantry and countertop before he finished for the night.

Just when he shut off the main lights, he spotted a dark silhouette, a customer maybe, standing in front of the glass doors. Lysandre did the courtesy to go outside to tell the man of the bakery's closing hours.

He swung the door open and peeked his head outside, "I'm sorry, but the bakery just closed. We'll be open tomo-"

"Lysandre."

The silhouette stepped out of the shadows, revealing Sycamore's figure. He was wrapped in a thick navy blue coat and his skin flushed red from desperately trying to fight against his fever.

"Augustine? What are you doing out here?"

The professor came closer, "I couldn't stay still in my apartment… Not after what happened. I needed to talk to you."

Lysandre didn't have the energy to deal with this right now. He immediately closed the glass doors but Sycamore's leather shoe shoved itself in its way.

"Lysandre I just want to talk!" Sycamore pleaded.

"There is nothing to discuss."

"Yes, there is– Ow! Watch my foot!"

Lysandre gave up and let go of the door, allowing Sycamore to hesitantly let himself in and click the door close.

"We need to talk," he repeated.

"There is nothing to talk about. I understand if you want to cut all contacts with me after what happened."

"That's not what I–"

Lysandre pushes past him and reaches for the door handle.

"So if you could for once, Augustine, listen to me and do me the favor of leaving me alo–"

He pushes the door, but it stays shut. 

Confused, Lysandre pushes it again, but to no avail. He grabbed the handle with his two bare hands and tried to force it open, practically shaking the door. He even landed a brute punch on the glass as a futile attempt to open it. 

When it stubbornly stays shut, Lysandre bangs his head against the glass, startling Sycamore.

He groaned, "The lock's jammed."

"Don't you have your keys with you?"

"They're with Benjamin, but he already left. I'm going to have to message him to get here."

Lysandre reaches for his Holo Caster to send Benjamin a quick message to bring the keys and get them out. He silently walks to the sofa liners and sits down.

He pats on the empty space beside him, "You said you wanted to talk. So talk."

Sycamore sits beside him, minding the small space between them.

But before Sycamore could utter a word, Lysandre takes in a deep breath and says, "I know that you probably hate me right now for what I have done this morning and I sincerely apologize for that but–"

"Lysandre."

"–to be fair when I kissed you by accident it was in the heat of the moment and I wasn't thinking very clearly but I promise it will never happen again so–"

"Lysandre..."

"–if you want to cut all contacts with me then that is totally understandable and I will respectfully keep my distance from you and you could–"

" _ LYSANDRE! _ " Sycamore snapped, finally catching the other man's attention, "Let me speak. Please."

Lysandre nods obediently. 

Sycamore sighs and looks at him, "Look, I came to apologize for what I did this morning. I didn't mean to get so mad at you. I'm sorry if I hurt you and... I hope you could forgive me. And the things that I said back in the lab still stand. I don't understand why you still stayed even after I hurt you. And then all of a sudden you kissed me and all I've been asking myself is..."

Sycamore gulps and whispers, "Why? Why me? "

Lysandre stays silent for a few moments, carefully choosing his words. He takes a deep breath and gently holds Sycamore's hand in his.

"Do you remember my time at the hospital?"

Sycamore nods. 

"I hated every second of it. Every day I lied down on that bed wishing I could just disappear. I knew that if I stepped outside those hospital walls, I would never be accepted by society again.

And then you came along. I never understood why you kept coming back to me, but... I grew to love it. I grew to love you. You are the reason why I feel like I finally belong. In fact, you're the reason why this bakery is standing in the first place! You have no idea, but you saved me, Augustine..."

Lysandre's wandering eyes finally land on Sycamore. 

"That's why it's you."

Sycamore was speechless. Did Lysandre really think of him like that? Even after three years? He's too shocked to notice Lysandre already slipping his hand away, "But of course, you don't have to return my feelings–"

"Wait!"

Sycamore tightens his grip on Lysandre's hand. He's not letting go of him again. Not this time.

"I-It's a little embarrassing that I found out just this morning when I could have figured it out years ago, but it only occurred to me now…" 

A bright blush tints Sycamore's cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck and summons all his will-power to face Lysandre.

"There's something about you that makes me feel... Complete. Nobody else makes me happy the way you do. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you laugh, or smile, or cook, or- or- or anything, really! You’re- You’re different, Lysandre." 

Sycamore squeezes his trembling fingers against Lysandre's.

"You're so much more than special to me. And I hope you know that."

Sycamore doesn't realize he's holding his breath as he waits for Lysandre to pick his jaw up from the floor, yet he stays frozen, mouth slightly agape.

The professor rambles on to fill in the uncomfortable silence, "Well, um… It's a shame that our first kiss had to be in the middle of a fight while I was on the verge of a migraine," he let out an awkward chuckle, "I imagined it would be something more romantic. Like a picnic, or a walk in a park, or a candle-lit dinner, or a–  _ Mmh! _ "

A pair of lips pecked the corner of his mouth. It only lasted for a second before Lysandre pulled away with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Is that better?" Lysandre teased.

Sycamore blinked for a second before he caught the glint in Lysandre's eye and smirked, "Hmm... Not really. Care to do it one more time for me?"

This time, Lysandre cupped the back of Sycamore's head and softly pressed his lips against his. Sycamore hesitantly held onto Lysandre's broad shoulders and let him guide the kiss. All tension and hunger finally dissipating with every second they touched. With Lysandre so close, he could smell the scent of sickly sweet sugar and bitter chocolate. It flooded his senses and made his head spin.

Lysandre pulled away and grinned, "I can't believe this is happening."

"Neither can I," Sycamore replied, still trying to catch his breath.

Lysandre delicately cupped Sycamore's face and looked into his brilliant gray eyes, "I-I don't know what to say, Augustine. This is all too much for me."

"Then don't say anything at all," Sycamore whispered before pulling Lysandre into another breathless kiss.

In a few moments, they were panting and sated. Sycamore settled himself on top of Lysandre's lap, nesting his head where his neck and shoulder met. Lysandre wrapped his arms around Sycamore's waist, pulling him in a cozy embrace.

If Lysandre could stop time, he would pause it at this exact moment, basking in the warm, quiet afterglow with Sycamore in his arms as the quiet ambiance surrounds them in a comforting embrace. 

Nothing could be more perfect.

Sycamore felt Lysandre's bandaged hand brush against his arm. He shifted a bit to take a good look at the injury and saw his handkerchief still there, holding the bloody bandage in place.

"How's your cut?" he asked, caressing the wounded hand.

"It was a pain to put on oven mitts," Lysandre chuckled, "What about you? How's your fever?"

"I'm not really focusing on that right now," he says, planting a small kiss under Lysandre's chin, "I have something more important to focus on."

Lysandre laughs and holds him closer, "You're ridiculous."

"I know."

He plants another soft kiss on top of Sycamore's forehead. The professor nuzzles against his shoulder and silently fiddles with the fingers on his bandaged hand. 

A shadow moves on the edge of Lysandre's eye. He looks up and spots a figure standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. He narrows his eyes to see...

"Oh no."

Sycamore stirs in his arms to look out the window, "What is it?"

"Benjamin's here."

They quickly scrambled out of each other's hold and sprang up the couch. Lysandre smoothed his shirt's wrinkles and gestured for Benjamin to unlock the door while Sycamore puffed up his coat's collar. 

"Did I arrive at a bad time?" Benjamin asked, red in the face.

"Not really, no," Lysandre said as he and Sycamore stepped out of the bakery, avoiding any sort of eye contact, "Thank you for coming back, Benjamin.'

"Don't mention it, sir!"

Benjamin takes his leave and finally walks away. Lysandre feels a pair of arms hug him from behind, and a chin prop up his shoulders. He smiles and leans back against the warmth. 

"My flu won't heal itself, you know," Sycamore whispered, a dopey grin plastered on his face, "I'm gonna need a little help." Lysandre laughs and presses a light kiss on the professor's cheek and holds him tighter. 

Lysandre untangles himself and walks back to the Pokemon lab, hand-in-hand with Sycamore under the Kalosian moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOSHHHH it's SO CLOSE TO ENDING IM BOTH SO SAD AND SO HAPPY. This isn't technically the last chapter, by the way!! I still have an epilogue in store!


	12. Three Months Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this fanfic means a lot to me, I guess it only makes sense to publish the last chapter on my birthday. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_Three Months Later..._

"You better catch up, Serena! You're lagging behind Calem's Central Kalos record."

"But that's all he's ever done! I'm still higher than him in everything else!" 

Serena crossed her arms and glared at a snickering Calem beside her. Sycamore scanned Serena's Pokedex one more time before a knock on the wall interrupted them.

"Am I interrupting anything?" A voice said behind the office walls. Sycamore perked up as he saw Lysandre's head pop out from behind the wall.

"Oh, is it lunch break already?" Sycamore glanced at his watch and frowns at the time, "I'm afraid it is. Sorry about that, kids."

He gestures for Lysandre to come in. Lysandre lets himself inside and makes his way behind the professor's desk.

"It's okay Professor. This just gives me more time to beat Serena in all the other Pokedex entries," Calem said, followed by a sharp elbow to his stomach by Serena.

Serena retracted her elbow and quickly flashed a smile at Lysandre, "Good afternoon Lysandre! What are you doing here?"

Lysandre lays two plastic containers of food on the table, "I'm going to have my lunch break with the professor. I brought some food I made for us to eat," he bends down to press a chaste kiss on Sycamore's temple, who gladly leaned into the warmth.

Serena cooed, "Aww... You guys are so–"

"Gross! At least kiss when we're not around, you lovebirds!" Calem shielded his eyes.

Sycamore laughed and handed back the Pokedexes to their rightful owners.

"Thank you so much for today. Good luck with the rest of your Pokedex entries!"

"You're welcome, Professor!"

Sycamore waited for Serena and Calem to leave, taking note of every step until it faded into the elevator. He stood up and hooked his arms around Lysandre's neck while the other man settled his hands on his waist.

"Hey," Lysandre whispers, "I missed you."

Sycamore smiles, "I missed you too, _mon cher,_ " the professor plants a light kiss on Lysandre's forehead and felt an unmistakable feverish heat as his lips touched his skin. 

"Why is your forehead heating up?"

Lysandre shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, "I woke up with a fever this morning."

Sycamore frowned, "Why didn't you call in absent today? You should be resting right now..."

"I know, but..." Lysandre's eyes darted to the plastic boxes on the desk, "I promised to bring lunch for us today."

"Even though! You know I'm totally capable of feeding myself."

"No, you aren't. And I know for a fact that you prefer my cooking than all the other restaurants in Lumiouse City."

"How about this. After work, you can come over to my apartment and I'll take care of you until you feel better," Sycamore's smirk widened as he twirled a strand of Lysandre's hair.

Lysandre rolls his eyes and laughs, "Oh please, we both know it'll end up in a disaster."

"Pssht, it'll be fine! Considering I picked up some pointers from you when I got sick myself."

The taller man leans down to kiss the teasing grin off the professor's face one last time and pulls away, "Just eat the damn food, Augustine."

"Sounds like a yes to me!"

Sycamore turned his attention to the food on his desk and prepared it while Lysandre helped. When they finished, Sycamore instantly dug into the savory dish before Lysandre could even dig into his. 

Because Lysandre, on the other hand, stared at him for a little while longer and let his mind wander for a brief moment. 

If he told his past self from three years ago that not only would he have stopped obsessing over creating a perfect world, set up a bakery, but also started dating Augustine Sycamore, his past self would tell him to stop fooling around.

If he had ever achieved his perfect world, he wouldn't have experienced any of this. 

He wouldn't have known the stale odor of hospital rooms, or the sweet scent of sliding a tray of freshly baked pastries into a display. 

He wouldn't have known what it felt like for utter hopelessness to swallow you whole while only a pair of arms kept you from crumbling apart. 

He wouldn't have thought he could be carefree once more, to feel the sense of security and solace he lost long ago. 

He wouldn't have known what it's like to be absolutely smitten by brilliant gray eyes or to feel waves of black curls run between your fingers.

To have a hoard of Fennekin trample over your body, or a clumsy knife leave a clean slice on your hand. 

To kiss someone and hold them close, or to feel a mass of curls nuzzle your shoulder before falling asleep. 

To wake up beside a glowing beacon of hope, and to have that contagious, beautiful smile of his be the first thing you see in the morning. 

His perfect world would have never had any of this. None of this at all. 

And Lysandre wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap!! It's over! I want to thank all of you guys for supporting this fanfic!! I appreciate all the kudos and comments! It makes me so incredibly happy to know you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Does this mean it's the end for the Baker!Lysandre AU? Nope. I'm actually planning out other fics and one-shots based on it, and I just can't wait to write them down! They'll come out eventually, but for now? This is all I need. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! i have a tumblr! feel free to talk to me about perfectworldshipping or pokemon in general! I'm always open to dms!
> 
> doodleweb.tumblr.com

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Aftermath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360685) by [DrexionCode](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrexionCode/pseuds/DrexionCode)




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